


take this weight (shared is halved)

by lachesisgrimm (olga_theodora)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bespin, Depression, Don't copy to another site, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hair Braiding, Hurt/Comfort, Lando ships it, Minor Self Harm, Panic Attacks, Post TLJ, Suicide (not a major character), The Force Ships It, bed sharing, ben is actually good at his job fight me, canon AU, discussions of pregnancy, living up to impossible expectations is really hard, rey disapproves of your labor laws, rey is space kudzu and ben loves that about her, tros what tros, we're going to be sad before we're happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-04-23 01:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 112,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olga_theodora/pseuds/lachesisgrimm
Summary: “You know how to wear a cape, I’ll give you that.”Long practice meant that even without a mask Ben was able to keep his face straight, his expression blank. “Where-”“No hug for ‘Unca Wanwo’?”When an injured Rey flees to Bespin, Ben isn't too far behind.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 2745
Kudos: 1595
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	1. injury

**Author's Note:**

> This is (loosely) inspired by a post on reylo_prompts from a few months ago: "Though still angry after Crait, Ben tells Rey she can find refuge, if she ever needs it, on Bespin, if she gives his name as hers. Lando has questions when 'Rey Solo' shows up, on the run. When Ben arrives there, fleeing from a coup, Lando gets to work matchmaking."

_Panic._

_She flew over hard, rocky terrain, bare feet pounding against the cracked duracrete of the Resistance’s latest hiding place. A blaster bolt passed close enough to scorch her night-clothes, burning the skin of her hip and causing her briefly to stumble. She could turn, fight, but one Jedi against dozens of rebels- rebels who had been her friends- would only end with blood shed on both sides, and it would be better, far better, to reach a ship and slip from their grasp to- to somewhere, to-_

_And she wasn’t well. Only adrenaline kept her running when her exhausted body wanted to drop to the ground. Only sheer determination kept her ahead of the crowd shouting her name and worse. _

_Traitor._

_Traitor._

_Traitor._

_A stolen ship, a series of wrenching sobs, a flare of light at the break of atmo._

And he woke, one hip aching and his hands grasping at the sheets and the empty bed to either side of him, her name immediately dropping from his lips: “_Rey._”

\- - -

Nothing Ben Solo had ever done had been enough. Nightmares had kept his parents harried, whenever they happened to be home. No amount of good behavior during the day had been able to outweigh their son screaming in the night, the dark side of the Force seeming to pool in his very shadow and tug at his limbs until his smiles turned sullen and his own family eyed him askance. Walling himself off from the sly, sibilant murmurs echoing in his mind had only gone so far- and half-trained as he had been (Luke’s guidance too hesitant, too cautious), those murmurs had easily slipped through the cracks. 

Nothing Kylo Ren had ever done had been enough. Not enough to please his Master, not enough to kill the past, not enough to save his father or convince Rey to take his hand in the rubble of the throne room. He had existed in constant desperation, always reaching for the one thing to set his path aright, and time after time the path had broken or twisted or disappeared altogether. 

And even after his ascension to the throne- answering to Supreme Leader more often than not, and thinking of himself as _Ben_ if only because he missed the way Rey had said his birth name- he still wasn’t sure if his actions would ever be enough. 

He slept easier, though, after ending the slave trade on all worlds under First Order rule. Food tasted better after he made education and health-care more accessible on the poorer planets, after he began carefully dismantling the system that supplied his own army with stolen children. He felt his confidence grow after corralling the Hutts into some semblance of law-abiding citizenship, after negotiating treaties while- knowingly, wryly- stealing moves used by his own mother at her New Republic best. 

But even as approval among certain sectors of the galaxy began to begrudgingly grow, the Resistance still thrived, still pestered. He wasn’t the only one having trouble letting the past die, it seemed, and nothing he ever did would repair their image of Kylo Ren, Jedi Killer and scourge of the galaxy- and if it hadn’t been for Rey, he might not have cared. 

Much. 

_You were right to see past my bluster,_ he would have told her if she ever allowed the bond to open for any longer than little slips when her emotions were high or her guard was low. If she had accepted his hand, had stayed… his gentlest and most sordid fantasies all focused on that one what-if. His equal, his lover spread beneath him, his wife round with child. When he touched himself at night (a novelty in itself, with no ever-watching voice in his head to sneer at his weakness) it was with Rey’s name on his tongue and the half-hope, half-fear that the bond would snap open then and there. It never did. 

What did slip through were snippets of either dreams or real life- green fields, her hands brushing over the tops of flowers and grass, palpable loneliness- and when the veil was thinnest he would walk beside her, unsure if what he had to say was reaching her at all. 

_I miss you._

_Are you safe? Are you getting enough to eat?_

_Rey._

_Rey._

_Rey?_

And now: an emotional distress signal, followed by the bond shutting even tighter than before. Nothing in the First Order’s intelligence could give him a clue as to why, and asking too many questions would only arouse Hux’s interest- and given the coup he was certain the other man was attempting to bring about, Ben kept a wary silence. He knocked politely at the bond, and then pounded, and then slammed every bit of his strength at the barrier, and _nothing._ Not that day, nor the next, nor the next, leaving him as irritable as a caged lothcat.

Then, a message: encrypted, and sent to a private comm that only a handful of people in the galaxy knew how to reach. 

The fact that it might have been a trap (an unknown sender, a Bespin reservation, the name in Ubese translating to _Solo, Kira_ in Galactic Basic) inspired barely a second’s pause before he ordered his ship readied, hands itching to grasp the controls. 

\- - -

Her hip, her raw feet still hurt, and she tended those wounds as best she could with shaking fingers. The cough, the fever- neither of those went away.

She had to go. Staying in that room, racking up a bill under a name that wasn’t hers- a name that was foolish to claim while on the run- was only asking for trouble, but something about Bespin had been calling to her for months. Had been even when she had still been trying so hard to be what the Resistance demanded of her, to live up to an impossible image that only Leia seemed to frown at. 

“This kind of thing destroyed Luke,” she had said once when they were alone, tone crisp. “You’re crumbling under the pressure.”

“I’m fine,” Rey had lied, every nerve strained. The same lie over and over again, smile cheery and never reaching her eyes- _I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine_\- along with others she told only herself.

_I’m glad I never took his hand. _

_I’ll happily cut him down. _

_I don’t dream of sleeping beside him, under the curve of his arm._

She lied a lot, for a Jedi. 

“I’ll take a day,” she told the plain walls of her room from under a pile of blankets, the fever that had been in abeyance before her flight back with a vengeance. “Maybe two.” Then she would slip out the south-facing window onto a narrow slice of roof and shimmy down the drainpipe. Steal a ship and go… somewhere. Somewhere the Resistance wouldn’t think to look. 

In a day.

Maybe two.

\- - -

Ben Solo was no stranger to Cloud City. He had toddled along its airy halls and later run the same paths as a child, a fake blaster in one hand as he and his uncle engaged in games of smuggler hide and seek. During a brief visit as a teenager- a furlough from the temple, before his life had irretrievably fallen apart- he had dared to sneak into the same carbon-freezing chamber that had held his father, a guilty, sick feeling in his stomach. 

Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader, had never visited the planet of Bespin at all. 

Not that Lando Calrissian seemed to see anyone other than Ben.

“You know how to wear a cape, I’ll give you that.”

Long practice meant that even without a mask Ben was able to keep his face straight, his expression blank. “Where-”

“No hug for ‘Unca Wanwo’?”

It was a blessing that he had come without backup. A risk, in its own way, but even if Lando managed to stab him in the kidneys in the next few seconds at least no one else had heard that particular childish endearment. 

“I take the trouble to send you a message about your wife-”

Ben felt his jaw tighten all-too-noticeably. “My what?”

“Well, she definitely isn’t your sister.” Lando chuckled as if they were friends meeting by happenstance, as if Ben’s hand weren’t hovering over his lightsaber. “Showing up here, claiming to be a Solo-”

“There are a lot of Solos in the galaxy,” Ben interjected irritably, only to have Lando shake his head.

“-barely keeping on her feet.” There was, for the first time, a glimmer of something- anger, perhaps, and not necessarily directed at him- in Lando’s eyes. “She hasn’t been well taken care of.” Definite anger in Lando’s voice, though polished and presented in a diplomatic way his mother would applaud. “You’re lucky I was keeping an eye out.”

_Not luck._ The Force, pure and simple, guiding Rey at her weakest directly into his path- because that was her, not too far away, her fire muted and dull, and he was already moving in her direction.

“I didn’t call you here to kill her, Ben.”

“Then why did you?”

“I talk to Maz, sometimes.”

Ben’s steps faltered, just barely, and some half-buried fondness for the man behind him forced a reassurance from his throat, albeit one that was nearly growled. “I have no intention of harming a hair on her head.”

\- - -

She was a shadow, a lump under the blankets in the dim room, but there was relief to be found in simply sharing the same air with her. 

“Hi, Ben.” A quiet whisper, barely audible. He had half-expected her to spring up, to swing her lightsaber blade at his throat, but instead she lay still. 

“When did you last eat?”

Rey shifted, pulling the blankets down to peer at him quizzically. She looked sharper, somehow, than she had fresh from Jakku, as if the Resistance had whittled away what the desert had been unable to claim, and that only served to make him angrier than he already was. Ben turned to the built-in datapad, checking for previous orders. Soup- the cheapest offered- and protein paste; bandages and inexpensive bacta. Nothing else. 

“They should have taken better care of you,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. She hurt. He could feel how much she hurt, now that he was at close range, could feel how fever shivered through her body, and that was only the physical. Emotionally, she _ached._

“Why?”

“They should have held you precious,” he bit out. “Safe-guarded you.”

The Last Jedi, their sacred hope. They should have _lauded_ Rey, should have worried at the fatigue in her eyes. A little care on their part would have kept her from this cold, impersonal room, listless even when facing the man the Resistance considered their greatest enemy.

“Weapons are meant to be used.”

Her plain, resigned words were all too close to what Snoke had once hissed in his own ears. Ben bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a harsh response, lifting his hands to unclasp his cloak. That breadth of cloth he tucked over her blankets, his knuckles at one point brushing against her hair. “What are you doing?” she asked, wincing when he increased the lighting from barely perceptible to barely acceptable. “Ben?”

“You can hardly fight me to the death in your state,” he told her in the least combative tone he could muster, trying to frame it as a joke- which it was, in a sense. “I’m evening the playing field.”

“Even killing you wouldn’t endear me to the Resistance.” She snuggled back into her nest, watching him in a manner more weary than wary, which was alarming in itself. “I kriffed up.”

“You did not,” he retorted automatically. “How are your wounds?”

“You felt that?” She shook her head before he could respond, whispering “Of course you did.”

“Rey.”

“Fine.” She closed her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“If I have to, I will strip you bare and inspect every inch of you myself.”

As he had hoped she glared at him with a measure of her usual fire. “I’m _fine._”

“Good.” 

A struggle, not to lie down beside her and kiss the crown of her head. He wanted to discard his boots and a few layers, to slip under the blankets with her- but that would be an imposition, and she didn’t want him in that way. 

A pity he couldn’t stop thinking of her in that way. As his to hold and comfort and protect, and be held and comforted and protected by. 

“When you’re well,” he said quietly, “we’ll discuss your future.”

“I look forward to exploring my cell.”

“I was thinking a planet. Somewhere unexpected, somewhere neither the Resistance nor First Order will think to look.”

Somewhere green, with gently lapping lakes.

She gave him a shadow of a puzzled smile. “Are you no longer the First Order?”

“Do you think me incapable of keeping secrets?”

“I think you keep a lot of them.” She pulled his cloak over her head, her next words muffled. “Maybe even from yourself.”

“I can’t imagine why, after nearly thirty years of being Snoke’s pawn,” he replied dryly, feeling his lingering anger transmute into intense weariness. “Will you allow me to move you to more comfortable quarters, Rey?”

She didn’t respond verbally, but her emotions spiked- and with them, a brief image of the window flashed through his mind. An escape route. 

“You’re not my prisoner.” His mouth curled into a wry smile even as he self-consciously repeated a familiar phrase. “You’re my guest.”

Rey snorted, the sound interrupted by a harsh series of coughs. “Will the interrogation chair be padded, this time?” 

“I’m sure I can arrange something more to your tastes; perhaps even a flattering prison uniform.”

She felt as if she were reluctantly amused, and peeked out from beneath the cloak. “So you want to settle me in some room of your choosing, nurse me back to health, and then… let me go.”

When he sat beside her on the bed she didn’t move an inch, didn’t even flinch when he touched her hot forehead with his bare fingertips. “Are you going to whisper about islands and loneliness?” she asked. “Or do you have a different speech prepared?”

“You have a fever.”

“I’m aware.”

“You wouldn’t be sick, if you had stayed with me.” Ben hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the words came out anyway in a frustrated, low tone. “Or if you had, you would have received the best of care from the moment you fell ill.”

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “The best of care as your… bodyguard? Pet Jedi?”

He frowned, fingers brushing over tendrils of hair damp with sweat. “Wife.”

Rey gave him a confused, arrested look. “Excuse me?”

“I was asking you to stay as my wife. My equal.”

“‘You’re nothing, but not to me’ was a marriage proposal?” 

He had to avert his gaze, at that, a blush heating his cheeks. “A flustered one.”

When he looked back he found that she wore an odd, distant expression, one that was even a little sorrowful. “We would have had children,” she whispered, almost to herself.

_Did you see that same vision, when we touched hands?_ he wondered. _That smiling little girl with dark hair and hazel eyes, plucking flowers?_

“We still could.” Rey met his eyes. “That was a year ago, not a hundred. The offer is still open.”

She was beginning to shiver, again, but not out of any kind of fear- and when all she said was a barely audible “Huh” he shook his head, standing to round to the other side of the bed. 

“You can consider the prospect later,” he said firmly, gathering her up blankets, cloak and all. There was no protest, no anger; just a sigh and her head settling on his shoulder. “I’m moving you somewhere more comfortable. Where’s your lightsaber?”

“Under the pillows.” 

Reaching out with the Force, he pulled the weapon free and brought it to his belt, clipping it alongside his own. 

“Will I get it back?”

“I’ll put in on your bedside table the moment you’re settled.” The door slid open as he strode toward it, revealing an empty hall beyond. “You fixed it.”

“It’s not the same.” 

He wasn’t quite sure if that warning applied to only the lightsaber. “Nothing ever is, after being broken.”

She closed her eyes, exhaling an unsteady breath. “Do you want me to stop calling you ‘Ben’?”

“You can call me whichever name you please,” he told her softly. “Including a return to ‘Monster’, if you like.”

They passed a clutch of people who openly stared after them, a murmured buzz rising in their wake. Rey didn’t seem to notice.

“I wanted to take your hand,” she admitted quietly, eyes still closed. “I wanted to take Ben’s hand.”

And he understood her meaning, even empathized with it- but. “That was Ben, making the offer.”

Rey nodded a little, turning her face into his shoulder. “I’m beginning to see that.”

\- - -

The rooms were opulent, as befitted the Supreme Leader. Ben would have been content- even more comfortable- with something simpler, but with Rey tossing and turning under the finely-woven sheets he was glad of the extra luxury. Glad of the medical droid tucked away in one closet, glad of the kitchen and cleaning droids dedicated to them and them alone, glad that the mattress cradled Rey with the gentleness of a lover.

She was, however, a terrible patient.

Not that he was entirely surprised. 

“You shouldn’t be up.”

Rey swayed on barely healed feet, a glass of water in one hand. “I’m thirsty.”

“I would have brought you something.”

She stared at him as he moved in close, a tinge of amusement in her gaze. “The Supreme Leader, waiting on some no one hand and foot?” Amused for certain, but bitter. Rey side-stepped the hand he extended, and he allowed her the evasion. “Wouldn’t the holos make much of that.”

“Rey.”

“Sometimes I regret leaving Jakku.” She wandered further into the room, dropping onto a couch with enough force to have water slopping over the side of her glass. “Everyone’s nothing, there.”

He followed her, stopping just far enough away that he wouldn’t be tempted to touch. “I’m glad you left.”

“You must like that scar a lot, then.”

“You gave it to me.”

Rey stared into her water with a frown. “I think there are professionals who would enjoy unpacking that statement.” She examined him, that frown still present as she took in his attire. “Do you always have that sweater on under your fifty layers of armor?” A pause. “It’s nice.”

She wore the nightdress he had thrust into her arms before steering her toward the shower on their arrival, and didn’t seem to care that the spilled water had lightened patches to near translucency. He remembered, suddenly, her stammered demand that he put on a cowl. “Will you tell me what happened?”

The frown disappeared, and with it every spark of emotion on her face. “I’m as much nothing as I ever was.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I thought I could be what they wanted. I thought…”

She pinched a fold of cloth between two fingers, looking somewhere in the middle distance. “It was nice, having a purpose,” Rey murmured after a moment. “At first. But they never saw me, not really. I think your mother did, but she had more important things to do than counsel me.”

He had been avoiding thinking of his mother, and not just for the usual reasons. The thought of her working Rey to the bone inspired the kind of anger he no longer intentionally sought out, and as it grew he felt the sickening, unsettling welter of emotions that reminded him of his worst memories of Snoke. 

A taste of his struggles must have slipped through to Rey, because her mask slipped a little. “She was off-planet, Ben.” Her tone was almost- almost- kind. “She was the only one to ever try and pull me back from the brink. Don’t blame her for this.”

He bit back hasty, regrettable words with a sharp nod, forcing himself to settle into a pattern of deep breaths. “Very well.”

“They wanted a selfless hero.” She huffed a laugh. “You can’t be selfless, in the desert. You can only be selfish.”

“That’s survival, Rey.”

“I know. But Jedi can’t think of themselves, can they?” She rolled her shoulders with a wince, then slumped back against the cushions. When her grip weakened she allowed him to take the glass from her hand, curling up into a ball the moment he lifted it away. “They wanted a Luke Skywalker- the legendary Skywalker, not the one I met on Ahch-To.”

Ben sat on the table across from her, ignoring the creak of the joins and his own flinched response to his uncle’s name. “Not even Luke was able to live up to his own image.”

He had made up for that failing at the end, though, hadn’t he? Projecting himself across the universe, ostentatiously brushing off his shoulder in the same way someone might make a provoking hand gesture, facing his own nephew in a battle Ben never would have been able to win. _See you around, kid._

A promise, and one his uncle would likely fulfill even from beyond the grave at the worst possible moment. 

“I disappointed them.” She closed her eyes, mouth tight with strain. “I disappointed them every kriffing day.” 

He stood abruptly- he couldn’t not, when she spoke like that- and just in time. The table collapsed in a heap, the glass joining the wreckage, and the noise startled Rey into opening her eyes.

She laughed. A sharp, wild peal that was sweet to his ears even if it had been at his own expense, and for a moment he allowed himself hope that her laughter would linger, boosting her spirits. 

It faded, though, leaving her expression bittersweet. “You should be glad I said no,” she told him. “I would have disappointed you, too.”

“Rey-”

But she shook her head, unfolding herself from the couch with a grimace of pain, and pressed her hands to her ears to drown out his protests as she returned to her bedroom. 

And he- in a show of restraint that took an immense amount of will- satisfied himself with only a single kick to the table’s remains before summoning the droids.


	2. this or that (nothing between)

It was a little like a dream, Cloud City. Or Ben’s rooms were, at any rate- all clean surfaces, and what wasn’t shiny and new was delectably soft. Rey thought that if he had found her a little more fevered that she wouldn’t have believed herself in such surroundings at all, but back on Jakku suffering from sunstroke. 

_What a waste that would have been._

She quirked a slight, unhappy smile as she stared up at the ceiling, rubbing a fold of the top sheet between two fingers. 

“I should go,” Rey murmured to herself, not moving an inch. She _could_ go… maybe. Ben- the surprisingly settled, gentle Ben who strode around in what probably passed for his lounge-wear, who placed food the likes of which she had never seen in front of her, who spiked with restrained anger whenever he thought of why she was on Bespin at all- Ben might let her walk right out the door. 

Or he might place his hands on her shoulders and steer her back inside with an offer of tea and cakes. 

Or he might roll his eyes and follow two steps behind, grabbing only his lightsaber and deserting everything else without a thought.

If Rey felt like getting out of bed- which she didn’t- that would be an interesting experiment.

It was a very large bed. 

She rolled onto her side, considering the expanse between her and the edge. Enough room for one and a half Ben’s, with room for another Ben behind her, and yet it was hers and hers alone. He slept elsewhere in his soft sweaters and loose trousers, even after clarifying that little matter of wanting to make her his _wife._ Didn’t married people sleep together? Rey had known precious few on Jakku, but she was absolutely certain that _unmarried_ people slept together all the time. The Resistance would have taught her that, even if Jakku hadn’t. 

Though she had been ill, she thought, returning to her back. And not particularly kind, which probably explained why he hadn’t asked or attempted to sleep by her side. And- if she were honest with herself- she wasn’t quite sure what being his wife would entail, beyond indulging in every guilty fantasy she had ever entertained in her lonely bunk. Perhaps accepting his offer would mean having him for only an hour or so in the evening before he left for his own quarters. Ben, with his big hands and broad chest and eyes that had grabbed her from the first moment, whose mind was such a fascinating and sorrowful place- would it be enough, to have him for so short a time?

She thought of the way he had looked at her in the throne room (wild-eyed and gasping for breath, his very gaze devouring), and his patient, steady care since arriving on Bespin, and thought _maybe_ as she bit one ragged thumbnail. The desire he had projected after battle had damn near terrified her, unsure and afraid for her friends as she had been, but removed from that desperate handful of moments she knew one thing for certain: he wouldn’t have hurt her. They might have- would have- ended up in the same bed eventually, but he wouldn’t have forced her underneath him. He would have been as gentle as it was within him to be.

Following an impulse, she dragged herself out of bed and walked into the fresher on still weak legs. Pulling her nightdress off, she stepped under the spray of water- _real_ water; what a wasteful miracle- while avoiding the sight of her own body in the mirror. 

She wasn’t vain- vanity had always been a luxury, and endurance a greater prize than troublesome beauty- but the return of traceable ribs made her feel as if she had never left the desert wastes at all.

\- - -

“Doesn’t the First Order need you stomping around, issuing commands?”

Ben looked up from his datapad, from which he had been doing the virtual version of just that, and found himself unable to immediately reply. Rey stood barefoot at the threshold of her room, freshly washed hair spilling around her shoulders and wearing- only wearing- what looked suspiciously like one of his own sweaters. Granted, it hung just past mid-thigh, but that left a great deal of her legs on display. “Where did you get that?”

“Your room.” She padded across the gleaming floor to the dining table, where a bowl of fruit waited. “We have an adjoining door.” She picked up a jogan fruit, turning it in her hands. “Are you upset?”

“No.” He was delighted in an odd, guilty way, though he had to sneak a pillow over his lap before she turned back to face him. “I can get you more clothing.”

“For when I leave.” A flat, questioning statement. Rey bit into the fruit, juice staining her lips. 

“For whenever.” He snuck a glance at her legs. “You’re going to get cold.”

“But eventually I’ll leave for this planet you’ve promised me.” One corner of her mouth turned up. “Unless you’ve decided to throw me into a cell after all.”

He had been willing to joke on the subject the first day, but no longer. “I’m not going to imprison you, Rey. I-”

Ben hesitated, but only briefly. “There are a few lovely planets beyond Huttese territory. You would be safe there, provided you kept a low profile.”

“I thought you wanted to marry me.” Rey eyed him with wary mischief, which was a distinct improvement on how terrifyingly quiet she had initially been. “Is that where you would keep your wife?”

“No.” He set aside the datapad with its drafted response to Hux’s most recent message (one misleadingly marked **URGENT**), afraid he would feel an urge to throw it. “My wife- _you_\- would live with me, if I have any say in the matter.”

“But you’d drop me off in the middle of nowhere if I asked.” She munched another bite of fruit, the bond shut tight enough to shield her thoughts but still revealing just how bruised her mental state was. “What then, Ben?”

“Then I would do my best to stay away.” The words came out reluctantly, and he didn’t bother to mask how much the idea bothered him. Rey would guess, no matter how hard he tried… and he had never once outright lied to her. He had no intention of starting now, when she was (begrudgingly) trusting him enough to wander around in only a stolen article of his own clothing, juice dripping down one wrist.

“And drop off supplies on an irregular basis?” 

Her tone was biting and combative, but he sensed a vulnerable undercurrent beneath, could even hear the probable subtext: _would you abandon me?_

A flash of a durasteel wall, mark after mark after mark scratched into the surface. Rey’s eyes widened a second later, the hand holding the half-eaten jogan fruit dropping to her side. 

“I said I would do my best, Rey, not that I would carve out my own heart.” Ben stood with a burst of nervous energy, the pillow falling to the floor unheeded. “So yes, I would keep slipping away from my responsibilities to see you. I would bring you whatever you wanted. I’d ask you again and again to marry me.”

He had crossed half the space between them before he forced himself to stop. “Unless you told me to leave you alone.” He took in a deep, uncomfortable breath. “Tell me to leave you alone, Rey, and I’ll do just that.”

He might pine himself into misery, but he would keep his word. She deserved someone capable of at least that much basic courtesy. 

She considered him for a long moment. “If I had asked you to run away with me that day- no First Order, no Resistance- would you have come?”

“Yes.” He answered immediately, the affirmation out before her last word had even died away. She nodded, unsurprised.

“I suppose it’s good I didn’t, then.” 

When Ben again moved forward- one step, then two, then a third that had them nearly toe to toe- Rey held her ground. “Because you’re doing a good job,” she told him, not a hint of defensiveness or anger in her tone. “I noticed, Ben, when I dared to take a moment to-”

She stopped, gaze flicking to the side. “I noticed,” she said after a moment. “Everyone did, and called it a trick. They thought you were trying to lull people into going back home.”

“That would have been quite the long con, on my part.” Carefully, and with a kind of tentative hope, he curved his hands around her shoulders. “What did you think?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want me back.” The audible bleakness in her voice had him tightening his grip a little. “I closed a door, and you never dropped the bounty on my head, so… so I stayed where I thought I should be.”

Unhappy and lonely and chasing after some impossible ideal- but he could hardly blame her for that. He had spent _years_ playing that same dreadful game, and only being his own master at long last had made the past year of loneliness palatable. “You fought the bond.”

“I don’t know how,” she replied with a humorless laugh. “Keeping _that_ door closed was exhausting.”

“Why did you, then?”

\- - -

Stealing his clothing had been a mistake. The sweater, softer than anything she had ever worn, still smelled faintly of him in a compelling, comforting way- but she had grabbed the one left slung over a chair rather than dig through his wardrobe, and she had done that on purpose. 

Not that Rey would admit such a thing to Ben, especially with him standing so close and waiting so attentively for her answer.

_Should have stayed in bed._

“Because I couldn’t afford distractions.”

And the Force had punished her for the evasion nearly as much as she had punished herself. Teeth-gritting willpower alone had kept the bond closed while she was awake, but asleep? Asleep, she had dreamed of him, and some of those dreams had not been products of her own imagination. Some of those dreams had been him striding beside her, asking questions and speaking her name in a soft, concerned tone that tempted.

So she had cut back on sleep, taking on extra work and ignoring the fatigue that dogged at her heels. She had given up meditation when the mere act of sitting quietly just served as a reminder of how unbalanced and _wanting_ she was. 

_And they liked seeing me scurry,_ she thought wearily. _‘Set a good example, Rey. Talk to the recruits, Rey. Sprint ahead and clear the path, Rey.’_

“Rey, Rey, Rey,” she muttered without thinking, the jogan fruit slipping from her hand to thump against the floor. With a sigh (_‘No time to eat, Rey!’_) she bent and retrieved it, jerking from Ben’s grip, and took a bite from the smashed side. 

A tic briefly appeared in his jaw. “We have more.”

“The floors are clean.”

Even if they hadn’t been, Rey had never been in a position to be choosy about such things. Though she rather hoped that he would snipe at her for her scavenging ways, he returned to her previous statement instead. “So I was a distraction?”

“What kind of Jedi would I be, consorting with the enemy?” 

Particularly an enemy she liked far too much, whose policies after taking leadership had turned out to be startlingly admirable- and _kriff,_ the way everyone had reacted when another piece of good news came down the line, as if they were all personally offended by no longer having a solidly despicable adversary. They preferred thinking of him as the dark to Rey’s light, the evil to her good, and had never been shy of saying so aloud… and such words came with expectations, over time. 

Serenity had never been one of Rey’s strengths. She wasn’t gentle, except for when scavenging had required a fine touch. She wasn’t slow to anger or wise or benevolent, and had never once regretted knocking Luke on his ass in a fit of temper. She didn’t fit the mold of _good,_ but that was the only role they had offered her- so she had smiled. Smiled, and lied, and did whatever anyone had asked.

And Ben just looked at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and understood it far too well. 

Perhaps he did. 

“I think this is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done,” she admitted quietly, the words dragged out of her by some impulse she couldn’t fight. 

A corner of his mouth curled up wryly. “Being here, with me?”

“Just being.” Just… breathing. Sleeping. Allowing time to flow past her as she stood in one place, doing absolutely nothing. “Acting like this would have gotten me killed, on Jakku.”

And sneered at, in the place she had left. She glanced toward his datapad, which even at a distance was clearly a superior model to anything she’d ever seen. Rey felt a spark of curiosity at its specs, its capabilities, its trading value- her first such spark in a long time. “You have a galaxy to run.”

“I do,” he agreed easily. “But even I take a break, once in a while… and it’s amazing how much you can delegate, when your staff is well-treated and willing.”

“I’ll…”

Rey trailed off, realizing suddenly that she didn’t actually want to return to her bed. She was tired- the fever was gone, and the cough mostly so- but her quiet room no longer held the same draw as it had even ten minutes before. 

“They have gardens, here.”

Her eyes snapped back to his. “Really?”

“We could take a walk through one.” He smiled a little, giving her outfit a quick, shy glance. “After I find more clothing for you.”

And- unable to resist, because when had she last had the opportunity to _enjoy_ the sight of green and growing things?- she nodded.

\- - -

Ben had been tempted, while Rey was ill, to order her an entire wardrobe of both the practical and impractical, but his better sense had overruled him. He had, however, kept the list of selections for her perusal. She shot him a hard stare when none of the pictures came with an accompanying price, but nonetheless tapped on a few different items without offering up actual argument. 

The question of sizing, though, had them both staring blankly at the screen. 

“I just wore whatever the quartermasters gave me,” she muttered, biting a thumbnail for what was clearly not the first time, and he wondered when, exactly, she had picked up that nervous habit. “What the kriff is an inseam?”

Ben knew- how could he not, after growing up with such an immaculately-garbed mother- but had no intention of measuring it for her. “A guess is fine; we’re not going out in public.”

They wouldn’t, because he intended to have the closest available garden closed to all comers for however long Rey wished to wander through it. A petty abuse of power, perhaps, but one he was willing to indulge in.

The delivery arrived within a standard hour, but did not come courtesy of a droid or a member of hotel staff.

Instead, it was delivered by his interfering uncle. 

_I should have expected this,_ Ben thought with resignation the moment the door slid back to reveal Lando, his arms full of cloth and a practiced smile on his face. The mischievous glint in his eyes was less practiced, and far more genuine. 

“Quite the bill you’ve been accruing,” he said as he swept in, cape fluttering behind him with an elan that Ben almost- almost- envied. “I hope you intend to pay, unlike your grandfather.”

“Most cities would be thrilled to have me as a guest,” Ben replied in lieu of a direct answer. “Especially given how little I’ve destroyed during my time here.”

“Most cities aren’t tended by someone who changed your diapers.” Lando flashed him a suave grin. “How is your wife?”

“She isn’t my wife.” As much as it pained him to admit.

“She could be. We throw lovely weddings in Cloud City, you know.” 

Ben couldn’t quite pinpoint the _why._ Not the why of Lando’s presence- it made a certain amount of sense for the city administrator to try to curry favor with the Supreme Leader, whether by personally making deliveries or otherwise- but the why of Lando being so friendly with the man who had killed a long-time friend. 

_I’ve never even forgiven myself for that moment._

He likely never would.

“You can leave those over there,” Ben said shortly, pointing at a nearby chair, only to have Lando carefully drape the pile over the chair-back and then refuse to leave. 

“I’d like to meet her.” His half-smile disappeared, expression turning grave. “This young woman who, on the holo feeds, looks suspiciously like the Resistance’s Jedi.” He took a look around the room, gaze assessing, and spoke again when Ben refused to reply. “I used to think it odd that the bounty specified she be brought in alive and unharmed, but now I wonder… I wonder if, on her arrival, Rey of Jakku would have been installed in a suite like this, rather than in a cell.”

_Yes,_ Ben immediately acknowledged, but continued to stare forebodingly.

“Little starfighter,” Lando murmured, “you are not the only person in this room to betray your father.”

He had to step back, at that. He couldn’t stop himself from the involuntary movement any more than he could stop himself from turning to hide the utter eradication of his habitual mask, or from trying to stifle his hurried intake of breath. 

“So I won’t be poisoning your wine or leaking the holos of you carrying your lady love down a public hall to any news outlets. I _will,_ in fact, do my best to continue hiding your presence here for as long as possible. Because Han would want me to, and because the only people who know exactly what happened on that day are you, and Han- and I knew his recklessly brave and infuriating ass.”

The touch of a hand against his back sent a flinch rippling through him, and the pulse in his emotional state resulted in an inaudible query from Rey and the sound of fast footsteps. Ben- ruthlessly tamping down his own feelings, because this was neither the time nor place to fully process his uncle’s apparent forgiveness- turned his head to see her still dressed in only his sweater and giving Lando a distrustful glare. “Who are you?”

Ben answered. “Lando Calrissian.”

Rey jerked her head toward him, brow furrowing at the rasp in his voice. “My uncle,” he added, turning fully now that he had some measure of control over his expression. “And the administrator of this city.”

After a moment she nodded, and when she looked back at Lando it was with recognition- and, Ben thought, a little bit of hero worship. “You used to own the Falcon.”

“Before Han swindled me out of it,” Lando replied, a smile spreading over his face. He strode forward, hand extended, and Rey cautiously offered hers. When he bowed and kissed the back with his usual debonair charm, a blush bloomed over Rey’s cheeks.

Irked- and half-wishing he had thought to kiss Rey’s hand long ago- Ben crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

Lando released Rey, giving her an admiring look that was somehow entirely within the bounds of propriety. “I see Ben is continuing the Solo tradition of snapping up the loveliest lady in the galaxy,” he said in a smooth, teasing tone. “Welcome…?”

“Rey.” She still blushed, but her expression shifted to something closer to wary politeness. “Which you know.”

“I may have guessed.”

She looked beyond him to the clothing on the chair- clothing, Ben noticed at last, that was far more than the handful of practical pieces she had picked out. “Are those mine?”

“Every stitch.”

When Rey walked over and began rummaging through the pile, it only took her a few seconds to pull out a fluid, rippling dress in deep green. “We have marvelous restaurants, here,” Lando said when she held it up with a questioning look, appearing as if he were barely repressing a grin. “And an excellent theatre.”

“And a functional carbon-freezing chamber,” Ben muttered just loud enough for Lando to hear. To his annoyance, Lando winked in response. Raising his voice, Ben said gruffly, “I was going to show her one of the gardens.”

“Then you should visit mine. One of the best in the city, and entirely private.” Lando inclined his head toward Rey, stepping toward the door. “I’ll arrange for your ride- say, in a half-hour or so?”

Rey slid Ben an inquiring look and- after a hesitation borne more from the knowledge that they were being herded than anything else- he nodded. A long-forgotten memory reluctantly surfaced: lush grass, vibrant flowers, and elaborate fountains that he had splashed in as a small child. 

Maybe Rey would actually smile.


	3. snarls

The dress was a little too loose. Rey tried it on in the privacy of her own room, breath catching at the feel of the fabric. Ben’s sweater was warmer, but _oh,_ there was a hedonistic pleasure to the way the dress flowed and slipped over her skin, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror it was the unexpected smile on her face that grabbed her eye first. She looked… happy. Possibly even pretty, which was something she had never cared one way or another about. Her gaze dropped to the slightly revealing neckline, the nipped-in waist, the way the skirt fell nearly to the floor, and liked what she saw for all that she felt terribly like an impostor, trying on some queen’s clothing on the sly.

And then she carefully took it off and dressed in leggings and boots and tunic instead, neatly hanging the dress in her wardrobe and shoving Ben’s sweater under her pillow for safekeeping. 

Ben- clothed once more in black trousers and wide-belted doublet, a hint of muted gold thread in the quilted fabric of the latter- held her hand as they left the suite, and didn’t let go until she herself pulled away to investigate the view outside a window. 

“What do you think?” he asked, stopped behind her and lightly touching her back.

“The clouds are lovely.” Tinted pink with the coming sunset, and a striking backdrop to the modern city suspended in air. Rey loved green planets best, but she could see why people flocked to Cloud City for reasons other than work. “He upset you.”

She slipped the statement in quietly, eyes still on the clouds, and after a moment he answered in an equally quiet murmur.

“He surprised me.” They resumed walking, Ben’s hand still at her back. “It seems as if he might actually forgive me, for...”

Rey nodded. She had gone charging to his defense without even a thought, legs bare and hair dried into snarls, and would have fought for him without even knowing the reason why- and she had a sneaking suspicion that Han would have approved. She hadn’t known him well, or for very long, but some inner instinct, some barely remembered dream from months before (_“Give the kid a break, next time you see him”_) made suspicion almost feel like certainty. 

And she was tired of being angry at Ben. She was tired of being tired, and of holding herself apart from him, and of making an island of herself. 

“I forgive you, for Han,” she told him as they walked down the empty hall, drawing nearer to where their ride waited.

Ben stopped, his hand falling away when she took a few steps more. When she turned, she found him watching her wide-eyed, mouth trembling. “I still don’t know about-”

Rey paused, waving a hand in the air to encompass the hall, their situation, the galaxy at large. “-about all of this, but I’ve made up my mind about that, Ben.”

After a moment his chin dipped down in a jerked nod, and he strode forward to fold one large hand around hers. He didn’t say a single word- she thought he might be steeling himself against actually crying in a public hallway- but he did lift her hand to his mouth, lips brushing over her fingers. 

She had been startled, when Lando kissed her hand; startled in an odd, surprisingly pleased way, considering how much she generally hated being touched by strangers. Ben kissing her hand, though, felt like a prelude, and one that made her wish for a second taste. Because of that, and because of the vulnerable cast to Ben’s eyes, she allowed him to keep hold in the speeder as he bit by bit mastered his feelings, the Kylo Ren mask slipping back into place. 

_I smile, he presents a carefully constructed expression… yes, we both understand what it is to hide our true selves from everyone around us._

“Would you like a garden?” Ben asked when the speeder stopped outside their final destination, sounding as if he truly wanted to know the answer.

“I would probably need one, wouldn’t I, if I decide to let you drop me off on some random planet.” It might- _would_\- be interesting to discover local vegetables and flowers, to see them bloom outside her own home, though she couldn’t quite envision that future. It was hard, with Ben beside her, to consider anything other than a future that involved him. Hard to even halfway desire to be on her own again.

“What if you were elsewhere?” He kept his tone carefully level, carefully bland. 

“Plants can grow on ships, as I understand it.” They were both being so kriffing careful, and a small part of Rey wanted to lash out against their caution. _Take him,_ that part seemed to snarl. _He’s every portion you were ever denied and more._

_But he comes with a galaxy,_ Rey thought, slipping her hand from his when she felt her palms begin to grow damp. _If he ever looked at me like-_

And then they were stepping into the garden proper, greenhouse dome arching crystalline-clear overhead, and for the first time in days even her undercurrent of anxiety and uncertainty disappeared. “_Oh,_” she whispered, stopping in her tracks as color and scent beckoned. 

Ben skimmed a gentle hand over her hair, wordless pleasure seeming to emanate from him and twine with her own, and as if the gesture were a nudge she wandered forward into aimless exploration. 

\- - - 

“Jakku is- as your father once put it- a real Sarlacc dung pit.” Lando’s voice, much like his entrance had been, was quiet. “She must be tough as durasteel to have survived there.”

“She is.”

And she was drifting through the paths in what looked to be nearly a daze, holding out a hand to almost but not quite touch petals and leaves. 

“You should stay for dinner.”

“If Rey agrees.”

“You should also stop pining like a lovelorn tragedian and walk with her.” When Ben slanted him a glance Lando offered a sly smile. “Gardens are very romantic. I’ll make myself scarce.”

Ben held his gaze, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What’s your motive?”

The smile dimmed to something quieter, perhaps a little sadder. “I care for you, Ben. I’ve been impressed, this past year-”

A flash of humor slipped in. “-and grateful, seeing as the increased taxes on Canto Bight have sent a number of tourists to my fair city.”

Ben very nearly cracked a dry smile. “Canto Bight needed to be bled.” 

Too many slavers, too many war profiteers. Snoke might have enjoyed the misery cultivated by that particular crowd, but Ben had no taste for it- and the new revenue stream went to fund the settlement efforts for former slaves, which felt appropriate and somewhat appeased his advisors’ budgetary concerns.

“A more well-dressed hive of villainy and scum there’s never been,” Lando agreed. “She makes you happy… and unless you want to put up with a variety of well-connected families vying to provide you with a spouse, you should marry sooner rather than later.”

Ben grimaced and muttered, “It’s already started.” From his advisors, from his allies both single and possessed of marriageable children, from the holo-news outlets. 

(“You’re young,” his most trusted advisor, an older woman his mother’s own age, had stated bluntly when asked for her opinion. “And handsome enough. Give the holos a wedding to obsess over and you could slip almost anything past them.”

The fact that Ben had no intention of marrying anyone other than Rey he had kept to himself.)

“Walk with your lady, then, or I’ll be forced to sigh reproachfully when Rey kidnaps you to forestall some kind of marriage of alliance. I don’t think she has any intention of letting you go, though she herself might not realize that yet.” 

So Ben- full of nervous hope and outwardly wearing a veneer of calm- headed down the path while Lando slipped away behind him. When he drew close Rey looked up from her inspection of a bed of Queen’s Heart, the lines of her face soft with awe and pollen on her nose. “I’ve never smelled anything like them.”

The scent of the red blooms was warm and delicate, and one Ben himself had always been fond of. He bit back a grin as he lifted a hand to brush away the yellow dust. “From Naboo,” he told her, caught by the way she seemed to hold her breath when his thumb touched her skin. “Queen’s Heart is planted along the streets of the capital.”

Rey licked her lips in what looked like a nervous gesture, and when he pulled his hand back from where it had been hovering in the air between them a hint of consternation appeared on her face. On instinct he plucked a blossom and slid it into her hair. 

“Shouldn’t you ask permission before doing that?” she asked quietly.

“I think he’ll forgive me one flower.” Ben offered his hand, palm up. “I remember a particularly impressive fountain further down the path,” he murmured, and allowed himself a self-deprecating smile. “I was once caught naked in it when I was four.”

An actual grin spread across her face, one that reached her eyes. “Perhaps Lando should put up one of those historical markers,” she teased, setting her hand in his. “Show me, Ben.”

He showed her the fountain (much smaller than he remembered), the bed of Alderaanian flame-roses his mother had always regarded with sad eyes, the trellised honeyblossoms arching over a seemingly endless view of clouds tinted ever-darkening pinks and purples. 

“Lando has invited us to stay for dinner.” They were standing at the far end of the garden, Rey examining a thriving patch of Tellanadan moonflowers. “But if you’re tired-”

“I’m not.” She paused, then amended her quick statement with a shrug. “Or I am, but I’m also hungry.”

“We won’t stay long,” Ben promised, pleased when Rey gave the moonblossoms one last glance before grabbing his hand. “And-”

He saw it, then: a drone hovering nearly at head-height on the other side of the dome, one built to record rather than assassinate (and _stars,_ how he hated guarding himself against both). Flinging up his free hand, he used a pulse of power to crumple the machine and send it dropping through the clouds. 

Rey looked where it had been, then at their clasped hands, and he knew exactly what she was thinking: they were the picture of courting lovers standing as they were amidst the flowers and under the soft, starry lights Lando favored in the evening. There was no telling how long the drone had been following them, capturing the moment for anyone to see. 

“Lando?” Rey asked quietly, face pale but set in a stoic mask. 

“No.” Ben had believed him, on that score, and in any case their discovery was inevitable; he just wished that they had been allowed a few more private days. “Where do you want me to take you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I haven’t decided.”

“Rey-”

“It’s a big decision, Ben; I haven’t even started researching my various options.”

He nearly flinched at the idea she might ask for lonely exile after all, but the barely repressed pain he felt emanating from her kept him steady. “If that holo is broadcast across the galaxy, the Resistance will know exactly where you are and who you’re with.”

And he- he would need to get back to his own command and put out any number of fires, lit by Hux or others.

Rey hadn’t pulled away, and at his comment dropped her gaze to his fingers twined with hers. “They might have already guessed.”

Ben stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Why do you think that, sweetheart?”

He hadn’t intended to let the endearment slip. Hadn’t intended to let his tone drift from straightforward to almost caressing, but he had done both, and a hint of pink appeared on her cheeks.

“I was very sick, before I left for Bespin,” she said quietly. “Sick enough that I don’t really remember bits of time… but I ran because when the fever first broke I found myself cuffed to an infirmary bed. I must have said… said something.”

Ben could, if she allowed, slip inside her mind to search out truth from muddled memory, but decided not to suggest it. He would let her make the overture- and in any case, he had his own painful question to ask. “You’re sure that my mother wasn’t there?”

“Positive. The first person I saw, before I managed to free myself, told me they were waiting for the General to return before passing judgment... and it didn’t _feel_ like she was nearby.” A shadow passed over Rey’s face, and she added a barely audible, “I checked.” 

Ben took in a deep breath, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. Inclining his head toward hers he brushed a careful kiss over her forehead, one so delicate he scarcely felt the brief touch himself. For one daring moment he lingered there, taking in the scent of her hair and Queen’s Heart. 

“Ben?”

He drew back reluctantly, searching for a sign he had overstepped, but all she said was, “Let’s go eat.”

And after a pause he nodded, tucking the bloom more securely into her hair. “Of course.”

\- - -

Lando met them at the garden entrance with a grim look on his face, and promptly led them both to a finely-set table that- in a gesture which softened even Ben’s mood- sported only a simple set of silverware per place. For Rey, he knew without asking, because for as long as Ben had known him Lando had never hid the fact that he enjoyed the artistry of formal dining. 

It was kind. That the meal was served family-style, sans serving droids or multiple courses, was even kinder. 

“The airspace around my home is forbidden, but it slipped past my guards,” Lando was saying apologetically as they took their places. “By the time I knew what was happening the feed had already hit the nearest satellite. I have people trying to pinpoint the source, but that will take time.”

“It is what it is,” Rey said with a pragmatic air for all that she was white around the lips. She stared fixedly at the table as if she had never seen bread before. “We’re bringing you trouble.”

“Revenue,” Lando corrected with a wry smile. “Try that dish in front of you, Rey; it’s an Alderaanian recipe that Leia always pretended to enjoy.”

“She did enjoy it,” Ben muttered, passing Rey a bowl of kodari-rice. “But it made her cry.” 

Later, and in private, when Ben was tucked in his bed and his parents were one cracked door away- then she had cried, emotions bittersweet. Always.

“Truly the sign of an excellent host,” Lando murmured regretfully, and raised his voice. “You are welcome to stay, Rey, though I will understand if you would prefer not to.”

She looked up from her plate, which was piled high but uncharacteristically untouched. “That would be trouble and not revenue, I think,” Rey said flatly. “If that holo gets out I’ll be targeted by everyone _except_ for those faithful to Ben.”

As leverage or as revenge, and against either of them. Rey met his gaze squarely, and he could tell that she understood exactly that. “Don’t say I can’t protect myself,” she told him, and Lando chuckled as Ben shook his head. 

“It wouldn’t be fair to your opponents, to face them without my calming presence to restrain you,” he replied, allowing a dry, teasing note to slip into his voice even as he hid just how concerned he was. She was still recovering, she was still worn down, and he couldn’t bear to let her go. “But-”

“I’m going with you,” she interrupted before shoving a loaded forkful into her mouth, and his own fork dropped to his plate with a clink. 

Lando picked up his wine glass, swirling dark liquid with barely veiled amusement. “She’s going with you, Ben.”

“I heard.” Even to his own ears he sounded a little disbelieving. 

With him.

It wasn’t an agreement to his proposal, but it was something. He could show her his plans, adjust them after she gave input, prove just how excellently they would suit each other as partners… and she would be safer, on his flagship.

Not that he would say so aloud.

“You’ll keep in touch, I hope?” Lando asked as he lounged back in his chair. “I’ll be notifying both of you, of course, about any increases in revenue or trouble. I assume you’ll be providing Rey with her own secure datapad and comms, Ben?”

“Of course.” Ben couldn’t look away from her, though she seemed more intent on her plate than the conversation. Part habit, he supposed, and part defense.

“I’ll prepare a few plants for you to take along.”

Rey actually looked up, at that, swallowing her mouthful of heavily buttered bread. “Plants?”

“I doubt the First Order has much in the way of greenery.” Lando flicked a glance toward the flower in Rey’s hair. “Queen’s Heart is especially hardy and easy to uproot; you could plant it practically anywhere.”

There was a brief burst of tumultuous, palpable yearning from Rey that had Ben sucking in a breath. “Thank you,” she told Lando, inclining her head toward her plate. “I would like that.”

\- - -

As she had told Ben, she remembered little. Pain, and fever, and sweating through her thin shift- and maybe, maybe, the name Kylo Ren. Perhaps someone had asked her about him, perhaps it had been said in passing, but Rey had the terrible feeling that she had said something untoward. 

_I should have gone with him,_ perhaps.

_I’m sorry._

_I love you._

Maybe more. Maybe she had spilled whatever lurid or simple fantasy had come to mind, maybe she had confessed to seeing him shirtless, maybe she had asked some fever-dream Ben to strip. Maybe she had rambled about her vision when they’d touched hands, of them standing against Snoke and that little girl running through grass, dark hair curling down her back. 

She could have said anything. 

“And now I’m going back to the First Order as a real guest,” Rey muttered, leaning back against the pillows with her knees pulled up to her chest, Ben’s sweater tugged on over her sleepwear. The expanse of bed surrounded her, dwarfed her, and all she could think was _what a shame._ What a shame, that Ben had never slept under the sheets, his head next to hers. 

Rey thought about her next possible living situation, about her potential loss of freedom- because what would she do, on a dreadnaught, other than wait for scraps of Ben’s attention?- about how tired she felt after a day of basically nothing. She thought about the gossip holos some members of the Resistance had discussed within her hearing, dissecting every beautiful humanoid or other who was intent on sleeping in the Supreme Leader’s bed, thought on her visible ribs- and instinctively, brashly, sent out a mental call that was probably akin to a frustrated scream. There was a knock within seconds, and she used a bit of power to swing the door open. 

Ben stood at the threshold, clothing rumpled and out of breath, and his hands came up to grasp the door-frame as if it and it alone kept him from charging further in. 

“I,” Rey said firmly, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, “am _not_ and will never be _ornamental._”

And he, eyes wide and disbelieving, blurted out, “Whoever said you kriffing _were?_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lando's brief mention of kidnapping was a reference to _The Courtship of Princess Leia_ by Dave Wolverton, which may no longer be canon but was a wild ride.


	4. shared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mcal made a wonderful moodboard for this fic that you can see [here](https://lachesisgrimm.tumblr.com/post/190226630125/fic-take-this-weight-shared-is-halved). Thank you, mcal!

“Not that you aren’t beautiful,” Ben immediately continued when Rey stared at him, mentally kicking himself for once again speaking without thinking. Rey tempted him on every possible level, physically and emotionally and spiritually, and the thought of keeping her as just some prettily-dressed doll of a wife sickened him- but stars, he did appreciate how beautiful she was. She was made for him in a way that wasn’t couth to admit aloud.

“Beauty always brings trouble,” she replied dismissively, loosening her grip on her knees. “And far too much attention.”

Ben suspected that Rey had fought off her own share of that kind of trouble, whether she believed in her own beauty or not. “You are-” 

“I’ve been pulled into a few of your dreams, Ben; I know you want me.”

Mortification raised heat in his cheeks and clawed at his throat, and for a moment he could barely breathe. “What?”

She tilted her head to the side, a slight smile playing over her lips. “You can’t seem to decide how large or small my breasts actually are.”

_Yes,_ Ben thought as he fought the urge to run. _Yes, embarrassment might actually kill me._

“But you do want to suck on them, either way.” 

“Uh-”

“Would we have separate quarters, if we married?”

He blinked, feeling a wash of disappointment at the idea. “If you prefer,” he replied, trying to keep his voice even. “If-”

“I wouldn’t prefer, if.” Rey spoke firmly, chin tilted up in a moment of instinctively regal posturing. “But I wasn’t sure what to think, with you sleeping in another room.”

Ben relaxed a little, though he felt- as he occasionally felt with Rey, his mind second-guessing every word- as if he were traversing a minefield… but she needed answers. If keeping up with the barrage of questions helped soothe the feral cry that had sent him running to her door, he would answer anything. “I didn’t want to impose.”

Her hands dropped to either side of her, fingers drumming against the sheets. “I’ve never shared a bed with anyone,” she admitted quietly, a surprisingly fragile air about her. “So I suppose I wouldn’t know if I liked it or not. Or if I’m good at it. I might kick.”

“Or steal the blankets?”

“Having blankets, plural, is still a novelty in itself.” Rey wasn’t teasing him; there was a vulnerable glint to her eyes even as she patted the space next to her tentatively. “Would you like to try? The sleeping part, I mean; you’ll have to do without seeing my breasts. And this isn’t me agreeing to anything else, either.”

There was the feel of a blush, again, heating even the tips of his earlobes. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, restraining himself from immediately claiming the offered spot. “We could do that. After- after I’ve finished preparing for bed.”

When she nodded, looking a blend of pleased and nervous, he backed up into his room, closing the door between them. 

And then- before changing, and with the bond shut down tight- he allowed himself one moment of dizzying desire before shoving it away as ruthlessly as he had done time and time before.

\- - -

“I don’t like wearing white.”

Rey eyed Ben carefully to see how he would take her pronouncement, but he merely nodded after a moment’s pause and continued settling himself beneath the covers. There was a sizable gap between them. “You can wear whatever colors you like,” he told her, eyes dark and questioning.

“It shows dirt too easily.” Not that Rey herself had ever cared- her sand-scoured and sun-bleached garb on Jakku had never fit most cultural definitions of clean- but even a smudge on her Resistance-provided clothing had carried an uneasy amount of weight. _Optics,_ Leia had called it with a dry, weary smile, before telling Rey to wear whatever she pleased and to look down her nose at anyone who gave her trouble. And she had, at first, until her grays and browns began disappearing in favor of white, white, white.

(“Just looking at you gives me hope,” Poe had said after a particularly successful skirmish, an easy, distracted smile on his face as he clapped her companionably on the back. “Like having Skywalker himself around, but prettier.”

Rey had felt too numb, too shell-shocked by the way the deaths of their enemies had rippled through the Force to even muster up a frown.)

“I suppose they liked dressing you as a counter to me,” Ben said quietly, turning onto his side. He did look good in her bed; she had been right about that. “You can wear whatever you like.”

“Your wife wouldn’t be able to wear whatever she liked.”

He gave her a pained look of agreement, then offered, “You may yet set a new galactic fashion craze.”

“Yes, of arm-wraps and sturdy leggings,” she muttered, memorizing the way his hair fell around his face. “I meant what I said, about not being ornamental.”

“If anyone were foolish enough to treat you like something pretty and fragile on a pedestal you would gut them.” A small, inviting smile tempted her to share in his amusement. “Though for diplomacy’s sake, I would ask that you restrain yourself to a verbal gutting rather than a literal one.”

“I don’t know, Ben; a knife to the stomach would be a memorable lesson _and_ set an excellent example.”

“Of a kind.” He slid his hand over the space between them, stopping just before his fingertips touched her forearm. “You would never have to wear anything that made you uncomfortable or hampered your movement. Would that be a suitable compromise?”

“Maybe.” His bare arm (he wore a black tank and loose pants, and she suspected it was out of courtesy to her that he wore anything of note at all) was at least twice the size of hers, and she felt the overwhelming desire to stroke the soft skin of his inner elbow. “Will we spar?”

“Of course. With each other, and with my Knights if you wish.” He burrowed deeper into his pillow. “You’ll be knocking the lot of us on our asses in no time.”

The fact that he appeared to honestly believe those words (and the way he smiled, as if he couldn’t wait for her to sweep his legs out from underneath him) settled something in her. _You’re nothing, but not to me_\- poor phrasing, but oh, she wished her initial interpretation had been kinder. 

“What do you think of your experiment, so far?” he asked, a tinge of worry appearing on his face.

_Touch me._ “Only a few minutes in. I still might punch you in the face during a nightmare.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.” And he was, she could tell. That was no joke, no light comment. He moved his hand just enough to touch her arm, expression soft. “We’ll never find out if you don’t turn off the lights.”

The dark only served to amplify just how intimate their situation was. It was comforting, to hear him breathing and know that she could reach out and grab him. She had dreamed of just this, during the last year- and emboldened by a world that seemed to be no larger than the bed they lay on, she said so aloud.

“Me, too,” he murmured in reply. “May I move closer?”

Rey took a beat to consider, mouth dry, before she whispered, “Please.”

She didn’t know how to arrange herself, at first: where to lay her head, how to fold her arms. Ben seemed to be having similar issues, or- annoyingly- had expectations that Rey couldn’t begin to divine. “This always looks easy on holos,” he said with dry humor as she squirmed in his grip (_can’t stay like this,_ she was thinking with burgeoning panic, enjoying the way he attempted to tuck her head under his chin far too much for comfort). He laughed when she shoved at his chest. “Change your mind?”

“No; roll over.”

“Maybe I want to hold _you._” He did as she demanded nonetheless, a frisson of surprised pleasure traveling up the bond when she clamped onto his back with a determined hold. “You can relax, sweetheart; I’m not going anywhere.”

_Want._ Rey used the word often enough, but for her _want_ had always taken a poor second place to _need-_ and maybe, she realized with a blend of unease and some far softer, undefinable emotion, both words applied to Ben. She had to force herself to gentle, arms and leg loosening around him… only to briefly, briefly rub her nose against the warm skin of his nape. 

_He smells like he’s mine,_ a part of her insisted, her open hand skimming over his clothed chest. 

She didn’t expect to sleep (_never keep the best parts of your haul; you’re only asking for thieves in the night_), but she did. 

\- - -

Leaving the bed in the morning- leaving a sleeping Rey and her clinging arms, leaving the way she whimpered quietly and curled in on herself the moment he slipped away- turned out to be surprisingly difficult. He wanted to stay. _Would_ have stayed, or at the very least returned after a few minutes, if he hadn’t been in charge of a large portion of the galaxy. 

But he was, and at some point while he had slept the footage had been leaked to practically every holo-news outlet. With that reveal came dozens of messages on Ben’s datapad, the most offensive of which was a sternly-worded communique that he could practically hear Hux _screeching._

“Perhaps I won’t wait for definitive proof he’s plotting,” Ben muttered to himself, whatever measure of relaxation he had gained from the night before abruptly draining away. He could send Hux to the smallest, meanest outpost the First Order operated. He could demote him to janitor (unfair to the current janitors, admittedly). He could arrange for an unfortunate airlock accident.

For the moment, he would satisfy himself with a reply so cutting that Hux would at the very least be metaphorically cut off at the knees, and was halfway through crafting it when Rey entered tousle-haired and sleepy-eyed. “Well?” she asked with a yawn, her mood from even across the room just off enough for him to worry. She made a beeline for the table, reaching for the pot of caf. “Are we exposed?” 

“Thoroughly.”

“And are you in trouble?” She shrugged at his questioning look. “I’m already in trouble, Ben.”

“We won’t have to make a run for the Outer Rim,” he assured her, dismissing his half-written reply. “Do you want to see?”

Rey nodded as she poured cream into to her caf (nearly as much cream as caf, and he knew with bone-deep surety that she loved the taste of the two together, loved the silken weight of milk-fat on her tongue), and then crossed the room to join him on the couch- but not right next to him. The carefully kept space between them was back, and she wasn’t giving a hint as to why. He could only hope that she wouldn’t immediately demand to be dropped on some obscure planet after seeing what the rest of the galaxy (according to his staff) had gleefully devoured. 

She sat up straighter when he pulled up the footage, a furrow forming between her brows. “Is that what I look like?”

The dome hadn’t been much of a barrier, visually, and the recorder had been of excellent quality. “Yes.” The holo-Rey cupped a moonblossom carefully in her hands, a delighted smile on her face. “That’s what you look like.”

A version of her, at least, and one he enjoyed just as much as the Rey who snarled and fought for what was hers. For a long moment she was silent, that off quality shifting to something more perplexed. “You look… protective,” Rey said finally.

Protective, and soft. His holo-self swayed noticeably toward Rey when she reached for his hand, appearing seconds away from pulling her into his arms, and she looked wistful and yearning under the soft glow of light. 

_In terms of public relations,_ one of the more positive missives from that morning had read, _may I congratulate you on an unqualified success._

As if he could ever have _planned_ such a moment. 

After the clip ended (dramatically; they had left in his dark scowl and the feed’s abrupt cut-off) Rey frowned into her caf. “Well.” She tapped a nail against the surface of the mug once, twice, a third time. “Will it ruin your reputation, do you think?”

Surprised, he chuckled quietly. “Only with those I care least about impressing.” When she didn’t reply after nearly a minute, her frown only deepening, he asked, “Do you regret it?”

“No. Not the garden, and not-”

A blush crept over her cheeks, but that was the extent of her physical reaction. “Not last night, either.”

“But you aren’t happy.” 

Rey raised her head, her expression fierce as though expecting an argument. “I liked it too much, and I don’t think we should do that again unless I stay. Permanently.” 

The demand stung, for all that it gave him a certain amount of hope. “You liked sharing a bed?” 

“Yes.” She glared grumpily in a fashion that seemed to encompass both him and the galaxy as a whole, a pulse of reluctant longing traveling along the bond. “You’re very warm.”

Ben couldn’t quite stop the small smile that begrudging statement inspired. “So I’m useful.”

“I don’t have the words.” Her gaze skittered away, and he sensed more than saw the insecurity hidden beneath her prickly exterior. “I just… I enjoyed it.”

“Too much,” he murmured, and resisted the urge to touch her when she clearly didn’t want to be touched. “You’re right.” 

She blinked rapidly, the set of her shoulders relaxing. “I am?”

“You weren’t the only one who enjoyed the experience.” Ben kept his voice soft, if teasing. “I don’t want you back in my bed until you’re ready to stay.” 

Because- in truth- if she spent every night beside him, if he grew used to her warmth only to have her leave… that would be a devastating blow. More than her departure already would be.

Her cheeks blazed red rather than pink, but she offered him a small, challenging smile. “That was my bed.”

“True enough.”

“So the same goes for my bed. No sneaking in when my guard is low.”

“Is your guard ever truly low, sweetheart?”

She huffed, an amused light in her eyes, and looked back to her caf. “So we leave today?”

Ben nodded, switching back to his waiting messages. “I need to return to my work, and we have a limited amount of time before…”

“Before the bounty hunters arrive,” Rey finished when he trailed off meaningfully, leaning back against the cushions. “Are there bounties? Beside yours.”

“I rescinded mine the day I arrived on Bespin, thank you,” he informed her dryly. Had done so, in fact, mere minutes after settling her in their suite. “And a few, though none from the Resistance. Yet.”

“As long as no one shoots me the moment we land on-”

She paused, giving him a quick look. “The _Steadfast,_ right? A bit friendlier than the _Supremacy._”

And, he hoped, the memories she formed there would be happier ones. “I’ve already sent out an order that your security clearance is equal with my own. You could set up a dejarik game on the bridge with a group of intoxicated stormtroopers and no one would say a word.” 

Rey moved closer by perhaps an inch. “Aren’t you at least a little bit concerned that my presence might be some wild plot dreamt up by Poe Dameron?” she asked seriously. 

“I can feel that it isn’t.” The bond, that extended burst of panic when she had initially fled, her physical state- she wasn’t lying. “I trust you.”

She looked almost startled, as if no one had ever said those words to her before. “Good.” She moved in another inch, eyeing his datapad. “And now that we both agree I’m not a spy…”

He angled it toward her willingly, mouth curving into a pleased smile when she snorted on reading his message to Hux. “Of course.”

\- - -

A droid packed her things, and given that Rey’s inclination would have been to toss everything into a garbage bag stolen from the kitchen that was probably for the best- though she did grab Ben’s sweater and her lightsaber before the droid could come anywhere near them.

“Do you want a clean one?” Ben asked when she reappeared in the main room, his tone less teasing than she might have expected. Kind, even, considering how much of her heart was inexplicably and secretly bound up in that one article of clothing.

“No,” she informed him flatly. She would just steal another when need be, and thumb her nose at him in the process. 

“Because you can have as many as you like.” He wore a look that was faintly reminiscent of the throne room; a kind of focused interest that told her he had at least a glimmer of understanding why the black fabric that had lain against his skin was crammed into a bundle under one arm. 

“It’s getting stronger,” Rey said quickly to distract him. “The bond.”

“Staying in the same place for longer than a quick fight seems to be helping.” Ben propped his socked feet onto the low table in front of the couch, datapad still in hand. His slow smile shot a pleasant flutter through her. “I think the Force likes it when we play nice.”

The Force, and not Snoke. The last year had been proof enough of that, with as much energy as Rey had spent trying to fight off their connection. “The Force wants us to breed.”

The datapad wobbled in his hand, a flush creeping over his exposed skin. “We both saw her, then?”

“The girl?” Who smiled on some green planet, tugging at Rey’s heart. “Yes.”

Ben bent his head toward the datapad, dark hair obscuring his face. “That doesn’t need to be the future,” he muttered, “if you don’t want it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

When he looked up, cautiously, she wrapped her arms even more tightly around herself. “I have spent _years_ waiting for a family,” Rey admitted in a quiet, terse voice. “First my own, but- but maybe I want to make one, now.” Tears stung at her eyelids, and she blinked them furiously away as her volume increased. “But you want me to be a… a what? Supreme Leader implies only one, but you keep talking about being _partners,_ and I’ve already failed the Resistance.”

He set aside the datapad and stood, moving across the room toward her. “You were alone.” Ben’s hands closed gently around her upper arms. “Do you really think I would make you carry that kind of weight by yourself? That I would leave you to struggle like that?” 

_No._

“I know I’m not asking you to do anything easy.” The shadows under his eyes- had she ever seen him without?- were a silent testament to that fact. “But I think you would find the work worthwhile, Rey- and we would be there to catch each other.” Ben lowered his head, softened his timbre. “We’ll pick another set of titles. We’ll discover how we work best; we’ll delegate. We’ll be honest with each other.”

The remnant of her pesky cough threatened to break the moment, but she wasn’t displeased by the way one of his hands slipped to her back, moving in a soothing circle. “I’m not done thinking.”

“I know.” His expression turned shy, even boyish. “I want to show you. I want to show you everything.”

Ben might mean only the galaxy, or he might mean that quite literally- and if Rey stayed, she would want the latter. All of the galaxy, all of him, all of the good they could accomplish and all they might create together. Every messy, sweaty moment they might share in each others’ arms. _We might have more than one child,_ she thought. _We might have half a dozen; all dark-haired troublemakers running around a dreadnaught._

Rey found she didn’t hate the idea. Rather liked it, actually, in an odd way, and Ben’s shyness slowly transmuted to amusement. “Why,” he asked, “are you imagining stormtroopers ineffectually chasing down several gleefully laughing children?”

“Because it’s funny.”

“I’m not arguing with you.”

She wasn’t anywhere near making up her mind (she told herself, and it felt distressingly like one of her own smiling lies), and they felt oh-so-close to crossing some kind of line- and then a chime from the door pulled them apart.

“I’ve already sent a few cuttings to your ship,” Lando said after greeting them, looking just as immaculately pulled together as ever. “Along with instructions on their care.” He winked at Rey. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble.”

She would miss him, Rey realized. She would miss his friendly smiles, his sly jokes, the way he treated Ben like someone who wasn’t to be feared. They might be the only two people in the galaxy willing and able to see past the Supreme Leader exterior. 

_Maybe Leia._ Hard to say, given how rarely Leia had spoken of either her son or Kylo Ren in the last year. Rey had often felt as if Leia were waiting for some kind of sign, some indication of which path to take, her silences growing ever more thoughtful as days passed.

_I miss her._

_I hope she doesn’t hate me, now._

“As for you,” Lando continued, offering Ben a plain durasteel box, “I set this aside before you were born.” The lid, once lifted, revealed a blaster. “Kind of an antique, now,” he said quietly, meeting Ben’s gaze. “But it still works perfectly well.”

Rey felt a vague impression of Ben’s reaction to the gift; saw a blurred vision of him dressed in something akin to Han’s smuggling attire with that blaster on his hip. That could have been him, in another life- flying through the stars engaging in less than legal dealings, swaggering and charming his way out of sticky situations. Maybe he would have stopped for fuel at Niima Outpost, maybe they would have met… but likely not. That Rey would probably have ended up as bleached bones in the desert.

“Thank you.” Ben accepted the box, long fingers curling around the edges in an almost protective manner. “I-”

He paused, then shook his head slightly. “You know that you’re welcome to visit.”

“I may take you up on that.” Lando gave him a quick, considering look. “Though if I do, be prepared to have a serious discussion about your wardrobe.”

Ben’s mouth curled up into a half-smile. “There is nothing wrong with my wardrobe.”

“If you’re going to lead the galaxy, Ben, you could stand to do so with a bit more style.” Lando glanced toward Rey. “Wouldn’t you like to see him in something other than these stiff tunics?”

Ben raised an inquiring brow in her direction. _He cares what I think. Even in a matter so small._

“I want him to be comfortable.” Because she did, whether that meant embroidered robes or soft sweaters or the Kylo Ren garb that was as much armor as it was clothing. He had promised not to make her wear anything she hated, and she would promise the same. 

Lando- fondly, as if he liked that answer a great deal- smiled, and saw them off as if they were _both_ beloved members of his own family.

And Rey (aboard Ben’s gleaming black ship, aware she was about to fly straight into the heart of what had been an enemy force and not quite caring)- Rey liked that treatment quite a bit.


	5. making an entrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm behind on replying to comments, but I promise to catch up on those soon!

“Ben?”

She hadn’t spoken in nearly an hour, an unreadable buzz of thought all he had received from her end of the bond. He was glad to hear his name, and to hear it without an edge hinting she might have changed her mind after furious inward debate. “Hmm?”

“There’s something I should have made clear before we left.” 

Ben turned slightly in the pilot’s seat, meeting her gaze. “Go on.”

“I won’t give you information on the Resistance.” Rey sat stiff and straight, hands hovering near the co-pilot’s controls. “There are still people I care about there.” 

“I know.”

“I-”

Rey stopped, peering at him with a furrow between her brows. “You… know.”

“The Resistance stopped being a priority months ago.” Ben said the words as kindly as he could- a hard task, when she had spent those months working herself to shadow, and for what? For the Resistance to send her into battle against the few targets they dared face? The smaller outposts, the less important supply transports- minor losses for the First Order, save for the loss of lives. “I’m not as single-minded as I used to be.”

She sat back in her seat, frowning at the vista of stars in front of them. “They’re just like sand fleas to you, aren’t they?” she said unexpectedly, voice soft and sad. “Annoying, but barely worth the trouble to slap at.”

And she wasn’t wrong. After their losses during the battle of Crait, after his own efforts swayed their former allies, the Resistance had suffered. In the space of a year they had gone from an actual army to no more than a troublesome militia. “I’m feeling a little bit more vindictive toward them at present, but not enough to go digging for information only you have.”

“Learning from your mistakes?”

He reached across the small gap between their seats, touching her arm lightly. “This time around, you will sleep in a comfortable bed,” he promised quietly. “With no restraints, no monster in a mask staring you down- and if you decide to leave, I will help you find a safe home and escort you there myself.” When she glanced toward him, he added, “The First Order won’t seek out the Resistance, but-”

“But if they attack, your people have the right to defend themselves.” Rey dipped her head in a nod. “I know, Ben. That’s only fair.”

There was nothing Ben necessarily needed to do, but he still bent toward the control panel, fingers drifting near a panel of switches, and before he lost his courage he asked the obvious question. “Who do you miss?”

“Leia,” she said after a beat. “Rose. Finn.”

“Because they saw you?”

“In pieces.” She pulled one leg up to her chest, propping her chin on her knee. “They thought they knew me. They didn’t, not really.”

The words slipped out, low and firm. “I do.”

“I know.” She didn’t reach for him, but the bond between them pulsed. “That’s why I’m here.”

\- - -

Rey retired to the one small bunk the ship contained midway through their journey, but only because Ben insisted- or so she told herself, as she settled heavy-eyed under bedding that smelled of nothing but astringent soap. She was being sensible, giving in to his suggestion. It had nothing to do with her own desire for a rest after hours of being awake (_liar_), and everything to do with needing to be at her best in front of his underlings. They might not respect her, if she arrived swaying on her feet or snoozing against Ben’s shoulder, carried aboard a dreadnaught a second time. 

_They won’t respect me anyway,_ she thought glumly as she tugged a crisp sheet over her head. _I’m-_

Her thoughts turned to a muddle. Not a Jedi, not a hero. Just Rey, who had stumbled onto the galactic stage by accident. Just Rey, whose tunic would be wrinkled by the time she woke, and maybe that would matter. 

But... she had other clothing. _And maybe,_ she thought with a yawn, _it would be no bad thing to use every weapon at my disposal._ Like Ben, who wore black like a shield; like Leia, whose wardrobe reminded those around her of the senator she had once been. Dressing for her potential role wouldn’t necessarily be resigning herself to being merely decorative, not if she didn’t let it.

Rey was still thinking on that idea when exhaustion drew her under.

\- - -

He checked on her three times, pulling off his boots before leaving the cockpit the first and keeping them off after. Rey slept heavily, even when he twitched the sheet away from her face so that she could breathe, and he wasn’t quite sure if that was a mark of her still-healing state or of how safe she felt with him. Ben suspected the former, but hoped, at least a little, for the latter. 

When she did wake he felt a wave of muted emotion, heard her feet hit the floor and a series of rustles and soft mutters, heard the pressurized thump of the fresher door closing and opening before she at last rejoined him. 

“Will this work?”

Ben turned at the question, twisting in his seat, and froze. 

“Well?” Rey asked impatiently, arms crossed over her chest, and he forced himself to do more than gape, forced himself past his automatic response of _you were meant to wear green, you were meant to have as much green as your heart desires._

Green, and silk that flowed over her limbs like water, and soft cloaks to keep her warm. 

Maybe _he_ should try wearing green.

“You look lovely.” When she tentatively relaxed, grip on herself loosening, he stood. “The color suits you.”

Rey shifted her weight, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I felt like the scavenger I am, next to you,” she admitted in a mutter. “Still do, really; you look ready to command an army while I look like I stole this outfit from someone else’s closet.”

“We guessed at your measurements,” he reminded her. “And the fit isn’t bad; it’s just a little loose in the waist.” When she frowned down at herself, he added, “I promised that you wouldn’t have to wear anything that makes you uncomfortable, and I meant it. You don’t need to make a grand entrance.”

“I think I do. Optics,” she explained sourly, her stormy expression making him think of her dislike of the color white. How often had she heard that word thrown in her direction? “I know how the game works, Ben, at least in part. We’ll be greeted by a whole host of stormtroopers and higher-ups the second we disembark.”

“I could-”

“No.” Rey took in a breath, looking a little startled at her own snapped response. “Scurrying on like I intend to hide would be even worse. As far as they’re concerned I murdered the last Supreme Leader-”

She gave him a pointed look. “-and now I’m making eyes at his successor. If I want even grudging respect I have to confront them head-on, and I have to do so in a way that doesn’t remind them I’m some grimy nobody every time they glance in my direction.” 

And- on the brink of making an impetuous response, because he would happily allow her to stroll through the _Steadfast_ barefoot and in nothing but items filched from his closet, and woe to anyone who sneered at her for doing so- he paused. 

(“I almost miss war,” his mother had half-joked one day when he was no more than six, maybe seven. She had been wearing a blue gown and robes that swept the floor with a rustle, fabric slippery-soft when he dared touch a fold of her skirt. “Generals are allowed to be so much more casual than senators or princesses.”

She had turned to Ben, ruffling his hair with a wry smile. “Men, too.”)

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, dismiss her concerns. Ben considered her anew, doing his best to assess her as a stranger might. Rey stood straight, her posture closer to defiant than regal. The lines of the gown were more romantic than severe, and should have looked out of place with such a stance, but she managed to carry it off- and the color, as he had noted from the first, was a good one on her. “Are you comfortable?”

She smoothed down the skirt, expression softening. “Yes. I… I like it.” Rey looked to him, that stubbornness back as if she dared him to comment one way or another. “I don’t have anything as sharp as what you’re wearing, otherwise I’d stomp on board just like you.”

“Stomp?” He caught a glimpse of memory transmitted through the bond, and yes, there he was, stomping with lightsaber in hand. “Fair point.” He stepped closer. “You really do look lovely. If you decide to expand your wardrobe those in charge of my clothing would be thrilled; I think they’re tired of dealing with only different shades of black.”

An actual smile, albeit a small one, appeared on her face. “Do they despair of you, Ben?”

“I think,” he replied dryly, giving her a smile of his own, “that despite fearing Snoke, they appreciated his fashion sense more than mine.” 

Rey snorted. “I won’t let them deck me in gold robes, even if we marry.”

“Nor should you.” He resisted the urge to lift a hand to her hair, which waved loose around her shoulders. For the first time in years he thought of the braids he used to know so well, was almost tempted to see if muscle memory alone could weave a secret message only he could read. “How about a belt?”

There were none among her things, but in his bag was one of soft black leather without buckle or adornment, more than long enough to loop twice around her waist. She nodded sharply when he held out her lightsaber, and secured it at her hip with a visible spike in confidence before using his brush on her hair. 

“You should carry that with you at all times.” His gaze darted from the path of the brush to the way the loose sleeve draped back on her upward-curved arm, revealing an old half-moon scar near her elbow. “The lightsaber, I mean. No one will touch you, but…”

But someone might, if the money were good enough. Someone might, if their hatred for him or her overcame common sense. 

“Believe me, Ben,” she replied, setting the brush aside, “I have no intention of letting anyone forget just how dangerous I am.” 

When Rey looked at herself in the fresher mirror a few minutes later, a brief burst of surprised approval hummed through the bond- and when they landed and stood before the as yet unopened hatch, she tilted her chin up with a determined expression and tucked her arm through his. 

\- - -

Rows, and rows, and rows, and _rows._ Innumerable white helms, all staring directly at her, and nausea built in Rey’s stomach as the incredibly unwelcome _we were always fighting a losing battle_ swept through her mind. 

“Rey.” Just a murmur, so low-pitched that only she could hear it as they lingered on the ramp. “Rey, you’re safe.”

And oh, she doubted that, but even so she took another step forward, and another, and another, head held high and Ben matching each stride. Ben, who looked every inch the formidable leader; Ben, who escorted her courteously and formally, as if she were some treasured daughter of an ancient house instead of the nothing she was. 

Ben, who caught a glimmer of her doubt and did not like it in the slightest, if his end of the bond was any indication. “Allegiant General Pryde,” he said when they reached the first of those waiting, voice low and smooth. “I did not expect such a welcome.”

“It is hardly every day that we host such a lauded guest, Lord Ren.” Despite his words Pryde’s gaze flickered over Rey as if she were practically a nonentity. “A suite has been prepared for her use, per your orders.”

She hated him. She hated all of them, at that moment, running on nervous adrenaline as she was, the fabric under her arms growing damp. This was inhospitable territory, plain enough, and she had been fool enough to traipse into it. 

And still, she said, “Thank you.” 

Because Leia would, and perhaps it would mean something- and judging by the brief look of shock that crossed Pryde’s face, she had caught him off guard with two simple words. “Of course, Lady Rey.”

Hux, beside him, inclined his head in her direction with a noticeably begrudging air. “Lady Rey.”

“General Hux.” A flash of memory- of Rose, laughing- nearly made her smile. “How is your hand?”

“My-”

His mouth snapped shut, cheeks very nearly matching his hair. “Quite well,” he gritted out. 

She felt faint amusement from Ben, but he didn’t let anything else slip as they continued down the line, greeting officer after officer as one by one they got a good look at her, their assessing eyes chipping away at her composure. He said nothing until they were (stars, blessedly) well away from the flight deck, with only porters and a handful of stormtroopers following as an honor guard. “Was that necessary?” 

Not a scold, but a tease. Even so, she had already scolded herself. “No.” It had been a mistake to taunt Hux, maybe even a mistake to board the _Steadfast_ at all. She was tempted to march back to the ship they had arrived on, towing Ben behind her.

“Don’t turn your back on him,” he said more seriously, bending to whisper the words into her ear.

“Oh,” she assured him quietly as they swept through wide, bright halls, every surface impossibly clean, “I wouldn’t dare.”

They passed patrolling stormtroopers, a cluster of technicians who gave them covert looks, blocky black droids which zipped industriously along. _Eighty to ninety portions,_ her mind prompted automatically at the first sighting of the latter, the dusty, metallic taste of polystarch bread filling her mouth and making her already anxious stomach roil. 

Ben’s concern was an almost tangible thing, wrapping around her like a cloak and easing the nausea. “We’re almost there,” he murmured. “You’re doing marvelously.”

It was a kind statement, but not one that Rey thought particularly truthful. 

\- - -

When she didn’t immediately step away the moment they were alone- after the bustle of porters setting down luggage, and of stormtroopers taking up their posts outside of the door- he kept quiet and still. Rey seemed intent on focusing on each breath and only each breath, her arm, quivering slightly, still tucked through his. 

_Braver than she knows._ She had stood before them all with her head held high like a queen, emotions and even the racing of her heart plain only to him. She had been, and was, magnificent, and he would be just as scared if their positions were reversed. Just as in need of a quiet, calm moment to pull himself together, and so he brushed a kiss over her hair as she steadied herself, bit by bit.

“I poked a lothcat with a stick, didn’t I?” Rey asked eventually, leaning into his side. “Did I embarrass you?”

“Not at all, and Hux needs to be poked every once in a while.” When she pulled away he let her go easily, watching as she made her way to where the cuttings were lined up tidily in their pots. “I’m fairly certain he’s already plotting against me, to be honest; my reputation as far as he is concerned is tarnished.”

“He did feel… compromised,” Rey said with a nod, then looked up at the ceiling. “Is this good light, for plants?”

“I have no idea, but one of the botanists in charge of hydroponics would know. I’ll arrange for you to meet them tomorrow.” He paused. “Would you like some time to rest, before dinner?”

Rey looked to either side of her, not taking a single step away from where she stood or giving any inclination of wanting to explore. “You have things to attend to,” she said after a moment, pressing her hands flat against the tabletop. “I’m keeping you from them.”

_Don’t leave me,_ he could almost hear even as she kept her back straight and eyes forward. She wouldn’t stop him from going, but she wouldn’t be glad of the privacy, either. “My priority is you, right now.” He moved to stand beside her, covering her hand with his own. “Would you like to see my quarters? I want you to know where they are, at the very least.”

“Yes.” The set of her shoulders relaxed, her hand flexing under his. “Yes, I would like that. Are they far?”

“Only a hall away.”

His rooms were simpler than hers, which had originally been outfitted for visiting diplomats. A sitting room he barely used, a spartan bedroom, a fresher with an actual tub, and a private office where he often passed hours that should have been spent sleeping. Rey walked through them all with far more curiosity than she had shown her own, even poking through his closet with a proprietary air, and ended her tour by dropping into his desk chair in a flutter of skirts. 

“More comfortable than it looks,” she commented, looking remarkably at home behind his desk and more at ease than she had since before disembarking. “I half-expected this chair to be just as hard and unforgiving as every other surface on this ship.”

She was a burst of color in his rooms, just as she was in his life. “The Supreme Leader is allowed the occasional indulgence.”

“So I wouldn’t be charged with high treason if I added a few cushions to your couch, perhaps even a blanket?”

“No more than a slap on the wrist,” he replied, deadpan, circling to her side of the desk. “Maybe not even that.”

“How kind.” She didn’t give up her spot when he loomed over her, instead staring up at him with a defiant glimmer to her eyes. “I’m going to follow you, tomorrow. I want to watch you work, to see you act the part.”

Ben leaned back against the desk, pleased by her declaration. “Good. I have a meeting with the Council; they need to grow used to your presence and learn to look to you for direction.” 

“Do they?” Rey tucked one leg up under the other, slouching in the chair. “What would I even do as your wife, Ben?”

“What do you want to do?” When she looked ready to argue he shook his head. “I won’t define you, Rey. If you want to share the day to day duties I would welcome your help. If you want to focus all of your attention on one thing, like eradicating the remaining slavers or feeding the poor, I would put the full force of my power behind you. You could start small with matters that affect only this ship, or immediately take on the galaxy.” Ben reached for her hand, folding it unresisting in his own. “There would be moments I would need you by my side, if you elect to leave the day to day to me, but I want you to shape the role to your liking.”

Her fingers curved around his wrist in a sure hold. “I have a question, but you might not like it.”

“I want to hear it, nonetheless.”

“Did you pursue all of your new policies because of me?”

And Ben paused, a little at a loss. “No,” he said finally. “And yes.” She didn’t look surprised, not in the least, and that gave him courage to continue. “I wanted you to be proud of me, that’s true enough- but increasing access to education was the right thing to do. Outlawing slavery was the right thing to do. My grandfather was a slave, my mother was briefly a slave, I… I often felt like a slave, even if I didn’t bear that title. And-”

A blush heated his cheeks and his voice dropped to a reluctant murmur, but he held her gaze. “-and while this doesn’t reflect well on me, I suppose I also wanted to prove that my family was wrong. That I could be something other than a monster lost to the dark.”

A person apart from his grandfather, for all that he had spent so many years molding himself to that image.

She was steady, in the face of his confession. “It’s been a long time since I looked at you and saw a monster, Ben.” Rey stood, closing what little distance lay between them. “And I think that it’s time you stopped using that word to describe yourself.” 

“A habit.”

“Well, I’m ordering you to stop.” She gave him a quick, fierce grin. “If I stay, I’ll get to give orders a lot. Might as well practice on you.”

And her words struck him, and struck unexpectedly hard. He bent his head briefly, blinking back tears, and then forced himself to meet her eyes again. “I will do my best.”

“Good.” For a moment Rey looked as if she were focused on his mouth, her cheeks pink- and then she shook herself, a little, lips firming into a resolute line. “And now I want to speak with someone about my outfit for tomorrow,” she stated. “If I’m going to face your Council, the last thing I want to be worrying about is my clothing.”


	6. optics

_We have arrived._

Ben stared at the short sentence, unsure of what else to say, of what would be safe to send even through secure comms. 

_I believe that Rey finds your plants a comfort,_ he finally added, and sent off the brief message to Lando while the temptation to delete was still a vague, barely formed impulse.

\- - -

Clothing covered what seemed to be every inch of her new sitting room. As her stylists (_stylists,_ stars above) argued, holding up swatches of fabric against her face, Rey wondered if sending Ben away had been the best idea. _I’ll be fine,_ she had said. _Go conquer a star system,_ she had said- teasingly, lest he get the wrong idea. And he had left, even if he was still in the back of her mind. In his own quarters, if she judged the distance correctly, and at least partially attuned to her in case she called. 

She wanted to call. Had, ever since the trio whose names she had barely heard had stripped her in a no-nonsense fashion down to her underwear, measuring every part of her body so thoroughly that Rey briefly wondered if _this_ was some novel interrogation tactic created with her in mind. There was an awful lot of white, in the room- white, and black, and red, and embroidery in both silver and gold that caught the light like molten ore. Very little of it appealed to Rey.

“The white gauze-silk,” one said with a decisive nod, dropping a square of shimmering red to the floor as if it weren’t worth five portions all on its own. “Play up the delicacy-”

“I don’t like white,” Rey interrupted, barely receiving a blink in return from two of the three. 

“Or-”

“I said,” Rey continued as evenly as possible as she was largely ignored, only the third- a woman, not much older than her- watching with silent interest, “I don’t like _white._”

Nothing.

The black chaise, though, lifting into the air and crashing back down- that caught their attention, freezing them all in place with wide, frightened eyes. Rey hated that fear, a little, even if they should have been listening from the start. “Out,” she told the two, more impatient than unkind. “You- stay.”

The remaining stylist eyed her warily as the others fled, but there was undeniable amusement beneath that wariness. “No white,” she said easily once they were alone. “A kriffing bitch to clean, if you’ll excuse the vulgarity, Lady Rey.”

On some other day Rey might have smiled, but she couldn’t even dredge up the ghost of one, at that moment. “Just Rey.” She was tired, and cold, and though bed was still several hours away was already annoyed by her own insistence on sleeping alone. “Give me your name again, please; I missed it the first time.”

“Prehta Halwend.” Her lips quirked into a wry smile. “And you didn’t miss it- I’m an apprentice, and unworthy of being introduced.”

Rey held Prehta’s gaze, not delving into her mind but gleaning what she could from the surface. Humor, ambition, intelligence- all good things, though they could be used as weapons just like anything else. “How are you at holding your tongue?”

“I’m an excellent secret keeper, but I’ll tell you the truth in private.” Prehta crossed her arms over her chest, giving Rey’s barely-clad form a professional, assessing look. “You’ll need more gowns for formal events, and exercise clothes, and outfits for meetings and such- something tailored and lean, I think, to match him. And everything that goes underneath.” She glanced toward the dress Rey had been wearing, draped over the back of a chair. “Is green your preferred color?”

“I… think so.”

A flicker of interest at Rey’s brief hesitation. “Would you be willing to try others, as long as I keep white out of your closet?”

“Yes.” Rey was able to say that with more certainty, at least. “And before anything else, I need something for tomorrow. Something-”

“Something that demands attention and respect?” Prehta shrugged a little when Rey’s eyes narrowed. “It’s no secret that a meeting of the Council has been called for tomorrow, and you look like someone who would prefer straightforward honesty, rather than evasion.”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to be prepared for a fight.” She kicked aside a stack of white swatches, striding toward a datapad one of the other stylists had left behind. “They wanted a marriage of alliance, and not all of them were pleased when that holovid turned up- or so the rumors say, you understand.” Prehta gave her an apologetic look. “I’ve heard generalities, not specifics.”

Rey felt her jaw tighten. “I see.”

“So.” Prehta gave her another up-and-down, and then nodded sharply. “We’re going to give them something to think about.”

Them, and- as Rey found herself realizing not too much later- herself, as well. The lessons on optics she had learned from the Resistance had been cut and dry: dark versus light, evil versus good. Nothing varied, nothing complex, but Prehta offered color and drape and sheen for every situation. “It’s like a language, clothing,” she commented after changing from sleek black trousers and tunic to a gown of silvery-gray that almost seemed to be constructed of stars and storm clouds. It made her feel a little like some personification of the X’us’R’iia, as if sweeping into a room while wearing it would make everyone fall back with bated breath. “And one I barely know.”

“It is,” Prehta agreed, kneeling at her feet to pin up the hem. “That’s why you have me. I’d be shit at ruling a galaxy or ordering stormtroopers around, but dressing someone for those roles? That I can do.”

“And there’s power in that, for you.”

Prehta’s hands stilled, her head lifting. “I have no desire to whisper policy in your ear,” she said bluntly. “Do I like the new direction the Supreme Leader is taking us in? Yes. Will serving the woman who might become his wife raise my standing significantly in my chosen field? Also yes- and far better than spending the rest of my life fitting uniforms to pompous generals.”

“I’m fine with that.” This kind of partnership Rey understood, even if her previous experiences had revolved around short-term alliances where one person couldn’t scavenge a particular site alone. Perhaps the goods were too large or too heavy, perhaps the retrieval required a more delicate touch than one party could manage. It was survival, pure and simple- and Rey’s survival might very well someday hinge on being able to fight in an outfit meant to impress, or vise versa. “I’ll try not to embarrass you.” When Prehta gave her a confused look, Rey explained dryly, “I’m a scavenger who barely knows what to do with basic cutlery. A pretty dress isn’t going to automatically make me into an empress.”

“No.” Prehta looked back toward the hem, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “But neither does understanding which fork goes with which course. If the Supreme Leader wanted someone who could set a table, he could have formed a harem on that qualification alone.”

Rey, without meaning to, made a grumpy, annoyed noise at the thought.

“But he wants you.” Prehta worked quickly and efficiently, sliding pin after pin into the fabric. “I’m looking forward to discovering why, and making you look good in the process. So. Don’t worry about embarrassing me.”

And that, it seemed, was her last word on the subject. She finished the hem, and helped Rey out of the gown before moving on to soft, fitted pants and shirts suitable for sparring. As Prehta made notes on her datapad, Rey inspected the next stack of clothing. 

“What goes under this?” she asked as she held up a gown of muted gold, one so sheer that she could see the plants across from her through the weave.

“Ah.” Prehta was briefly silent, something shifting in her expression as if another piece of the puzzle that was Rey had fallen into place. “Nothing.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing.” She reached up, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s, uh, more for the one looking than the one wearing it, you see.”

It took Rey a moment to truly understand the implications of that statement, whereupon her mind swiftly skipped from an almost academic _mating clothes_ to a far more personal scenario. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Right.” Her cheeks warmed even as a low throbbing began between her thighs, nipples pebbling to hard peaks beneath the robe she wore. Her, in this nothing of a dress, and _Ben_\- well, she had a fairly good idea of what he might do, if she wore this and only this in front of him. “Perhaps we should put it in the back of a drawer, for now.”

“Right.” Prehta snatched away the gown and with it a pile of similarly flimsy things, and nodded her head toward a pair of trousers nearby. “See what you think of those.”

Only later- after dinner with Ben, who looked harried, and after retiring to her cold quarters- did Rey allow herself to think on the gown again. On an imagined Ben, his eyes dark and singularly focused, crowding her against a wall. In her own bed, surrounded by the barely audible hum of the dreadnaught’s engines, she shut her eyes against the unfamiliar dark and slid a hand between her legs. 

It helped her sleep, at the very least- and as alone and vulnerable as she felt, that was a blessing. 

\- - -

“Enjoy your holiday?”

“Did you comm after hours to scold me?” Ben asked, setting down his stylus. For as much work as he had done on Bespin, more yet waited, and he was nowhere close to catching up. Still, he wasn’t annoyed by the interruption. “I was taking care of a friend.”

“You were wooing the Jedi.” Solah smiled smugly, arms crossed over her chest. “The others want to know when she’ll be joining our practices.”

“When she’s well enough.” He narrowed his eyes, giving her a stern look. “She’s been _ill._”

“That never led you to stand over our beds and coo.”

Ben very carefully kept his expression unruffled. “I’m merely looking forward to unleashing Rey at her best. I suspect at least one of you will lose a limb.”

“Relax.” She waved a hand in the air, fingers going beyond the range of the holo and abruptly cutting off. “We’re not fool enough to harm your beloved.”

He felt his jaw clench, just slightly. Solah always had been ridiculously perceptive. “I need you to guard her, just as you would guard me.”

“We’re aware.”

“And-”

Ben hesitated, and- changing his mind- shook his head. Ordering Solah to befriend Rey would not end well, for him or anyone else. “Starting tomorrow. She’s meeting the Council, and-”

“And they’re likely to slip poison into her wine.”

“Not if they wish to live another day,” Ben replied after a beat of silence, voice low and tense. 

Solah nodded, but said in an equally quiet tone, “Be careful, Kylo. You’re wearing your heart, plain to see.”

He looked down at the desktop, intentionally feeling out the part of his mind that read as _Rey_: asleep, but uneasily so, and just where she should be. It would be impossible to go through the rest of his life as if she didn’t matter, particularly if she stayed- and without her, he might very well turn to kyber. 

Solah seemed to understand everything he couldn’t or wouldn’t say aloud. “We’ll be on alert.”

“Good.”

“And we could ease her back into training, when your schedule inevitably conflicts.” She gave him a slight, serious smile. “We respect her, you know. Anyone who could land a blow on you, who could survive Snoke and his guards- they’re someone we can’t discount. And there’s the children to think about.”

Ben felt a tic under his right eye. 

“We’re very intrigued by the potential of your children.”

“You’re taking long-term bets, in other words.” He didn’t often take offense, when his knights spoke- they had been together too long, under such strenuous circumstances, for him to throw everything away by lashing out unreasonably- but he felt a need to make something clear. “I would find any child of mine very precious, Solah. Force sensitive or not.” 

She sat up straighter, on her end of the comm, smile dying away. 

“And while I can’t keep an entire galaxy from disparaging my children,” Ben said carefully (though _oh,_ he would like to), “I would hope that my closest confidantes would cherish them just as I would.”

He would never send a child of his away. Filled with the Force or not, Ben would raise them himself, with Rey- because he would have children with Rey, or he would have no children at all. It was a simple fact, though he knew that to anyone else it would sound unnecessarily dramatic. 

_It would be unfair to anyone else._ He picked up the stylus again, playing with it idly. _Unfair to Rey. Unfair to me._

Rey might think otherwise- he was afraid to ask- but she had a permanent spot in the back of his mind, and Ben wasn’t sure if he could ever move past that, even if his love for her somehow died. 

“Fair.” As best he could tell, she was in earnest. “And we wouldn’t. Be unkind.”

They were the closest thing he had to a family, in the First Order. A complicated, spiny family, but a family nonetheless, and one that had drawn closer since Snoke’s death. “I know.” Ben thought of that dark-haired girl, laughing in the green. She might not have a single speck of power in her, might never exist, but he felt protective of her even so. “Be careful.”

“I’ll pass your message along. Get some sleep.” She looked away, as if her attention were caught by something or someone else, and then gave him a quick, tired smile. “Tomorrow will be quite the day.”

He worked for another hour before finally, reluctantly, taking her advice.

\- - -

Rey slept poorly, and every time she flinched awake (the hum of engines, the hiss of air through heating vents, the crisp rustle of the sheets; all too unfamiliar for comfort) it took her several pulse-racing seconds to remember where she was and why she was there. 

“I can fix this,” Prehta said after getting a good look at her wan, shadowed face the next morning, and proceeded to do just that with an artistry that Rey thought akin to magic. The dewy, well-rested visage that looked back at Rey from the mirror was ruined only by her yawns as Prehta slicked back her hair into a severe knot.

“No delicate gown this morning,” she was saying, more to herself than to Rey, her own nerves evident in her voice. “You need to-”

When she paused, frowning at a stray wisp of hair at Rey’s temple that was resisting her efforts, Rey said, “Stomp.”

“What?”

“I need to look ready to stomp.” Rey yawned again, wondering if the dark red lip paint Prehta had applied would survive another cup of caf. “Like B- like Kylo.”

As far as she knew, Ben’s true identity was still something of a secret. Certainly no one in the Resistance had brought up the name Ben Solo, not even after he had begun appearing in holovids without a mask. 

Prehta pursed her lips, considering. “Stomp.” After a moment she nodded. “That sounds about right. Today you stomp, sartorially- and the boots I picked out will be perfect for that.”

Black boots to the knee, over close-fitting black trousers. A crimson blouse that clung, soft against Rey’s skin, under a long, open black robe that flowed with every movement- and around her waist, Ben’s belt. 

Because it was useful, and maybe- maybe- a little comforting. 

Prehta tidied away her bottles and pins and sprays as Rey drank a second cup of caf and fidgeted. “What did you think of the process?”

“Fussy,” Rey admitted, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Save for the cup in her hand, she looked ready to stride onto a very elegant battlefield. “Yet effective.”

And when Ben arrived to escort her to their meeting, eyes widening and steps faltering at first sight- Rey had never been vain, but she found herself liking that particular reaction, and the accompanying pulse of heat through the bond, quite a bit. 

“Rey.” The set of his mouth softened into something very _Ben,_ and he reached out to touch her shoulder with a gentle hand. “You look beautiful.” 

Belatedly his gaze flicked to Prehta, the mask back in an instant.

“Her name is Prehta Halwend,” Rey informed him, “and she’ll be working for me.”

Ben’s gaze intensified, first on Prehta and then on Rey herself. There was satisfaction, there, that she couldn’t quite parse- and then she realized that by stating the words aloud, she had taken yet another step toward accepting the role he offered. “As my lady commands,” he replied in a seemingly grave tone, and Rey snorted. 

“Don’t tease.”

“Never.” She had the sense that he would be smirking, were it not for his carefully maintained mask. “I’m merely pleased that you’ve found someone you’re comfortable with.”

Rey very nearly rolled her eyes and said something cutting in return, but stopped short of both. She was already on edge, and picking a fight with her sole ally out of nerves would be foolish. “Are you ready?”

His mood shifted to something more sober. “Yes.”

Five armored humanoids waited for them outside of Rey’s quarters, each wearing a helm that somehow did not disguise their immediate interest in her. “My knights,” Ben explained, his hand light against her upper back. “And now yours, as well.”

_Only because you say so,_ Rey thought. One, the shortest of the group, stood at the fore and seemed to be watching her with more focus than the rest. Perhaps their leader, perhaps the closest to Ben, perhaps someone who wanted to see him fall. She would have to find out, and soon- and hope that if any of them turned, she would have regained the muscle and stamina she needed to take even one of them on. 

Her second walk as a free woman through too-bright halls was marginally better than the first. Queasiness, she decided (stubbornly), was not the same thing as full-blown nausea, and there was an odd comfort to the sound of her boots striking the hard floor, to the way her clothing moved with her.

“All right?” Ben murmured. 

In lieu of answering, she gracelessly shoved her determination through the bond and was rewarded with a quiet chuckle. 

“Good enough.” He drew her a little closer, slowing their pace. “If you’re offered anything to drink or eat outside of our quarters, allow one of the knights to check it first. Please.”

“Wouldn’t that be ironic, to starve all my life and then die because of poisoned bread.”

Ben stopped walking altogether, frowning thunderously down at her. “I don’t find that very humorous.”

“Neither do I,” Rey replied, raising a brow. “I know my education was piss-poor, but I’m pretty sure there’s a difference between irony and humor.”

His frown eased, turning almost apologetic. “True. And you are well educated, just… self-guided.”

“Limited to what I could find in downed Imperial ships,” she corrected. Languages, engineering, water purifying. The economics of trade. “Or in the desert, or Niima Outpost. Which was a surprisingly wide array of topics, just…”

“Eclectic?”

A word she had read, but never heard aloud. “That, yes.”

“Are we lingering?” the shortest of the knights asked in a tone Rey recognized as arch even through the mask’s filter. “Like wistful lovers in a holovid?”

“Solah,” Ben said warningly. 

“I merely want to know if we should be posing, or declaiming a speech in unison like some kind of Chandrilan chorus.”

Someone- someone who wasn’t Rey, though surprisingly she felt the urge- snickered. “We should get this done,” she said before Ben could say anything in return. “I’m hoping to steal an hour to spar with you, later.”

Ben turned, still keeping hold of her arm, and though he faced away from her Rey _knew_ that he was glaring at the knights closest to him. 

“And I still haven’t shown you how I fixed my lightsaber. Though maybe you played with it while I was sick,” she continued, grateful that its weight rested against her hip. “Did you?”

“One doesn’t play with a lightsaber,” he said with dignity, once again moving forward. “It’s-”

The jagged spike of emotion from his end of the bond made her eyes widen, but after taking in a breath he gritted out the rest. “It’s an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.”

Rey may have only known Luke Skywalker for a few days, but she knew instantly that those words had fallen from his lips, and often. After a moment of silence, his arm tense under hers, Rey said with feigned lightness, “Remind me to show you a few uncivilized weapons, then.” A beat. “So we can play.”

And when he again stopped in his tracks, a heated expression breaking the mask and knee-weakening _want_ surging through the bond, at least two knights laughed outright.


	7. liminal

The Council had existed for nearly as long as the First Order, but prior to Snoke’s death it had served only to echo his every thought. No one had shared opinions, no one had offered up arguments or rebuttals- or if they had, they were invariably executed. By the time Ben ascended to the throne those that remained were a cowed, submissive lot, too afraid to look him in the eye. Pensioning them off and starting anew had been an act of mercy, and a necessity. 

Their twelve replacements- most humanoid, though not all human, and a mix of genders- were largely career diplomats from a variety of different star systems. They were all exceptional, and intelligent, and desirous of galactic stability, and even the ones that didn’t particularly _like_ Ben acknowledged him as better than his predecessor. Very rarely had he regretted forming such an opinionated group. 

Their agreement (a rarity in itself) on an advantageous marriage was one of the few exceptions. 

_Not a one of them would have pressed Snoke on the matter,_ he had thought more than once. _Not one would have dared suggest that he trade half of his bed and throne in exchange for a prosperous shipyard or an army of mercenaries._

The Council as a whole had not yet been firm on that matter with Ben- had done nothing more than coaxingly extol the virtues, really- but he figured it was only a matter of time. 

And now he had Rey at least halfway to accepting, offering to _play._

Her timing was terrible, but kriff, he wanted to accept.

His advisors rose when Ben swept into the room with Rey on his arm, and- for once- their eyes all turned immediately to someone other than him. _This is the way it’s going to be,_ he thought defiantly, making a point of seating Rey at the head of the table before claiming his own chair beside her. _Look to her just as you would look to me._

Rey folded her hands on her lap in an outward show of calm, only the jagged edge of her thoughts telling him of her uncertainty. Solah intercepted the serving droid, testing caf and pastries with a hand-held scanner before placing them on the table and positioning herself behind them. 

“I trust you have all been well, during my time away,” Ben began, curling one hand loosely around his cup. “I have received your messages, and it seems as if nothing dire occurred.”

“It was quite routine.” Cass Eddor smoothed her graying hair, eyes still on Rey. There was a hint of cool approval in her expression, which was no surprise- Ben had expected Cass, out of all of them, to immediately see Rey’s worth. “Though there are new rumors of slavers hiding in the Anaxes asteroid field.”

“Hardly creditable ones,” Xors Driigo said, the words underlaid by the hissing of his breathing equipment. “And of small concern compared to our new opportunity.” His gaze flicked to Rey. “Once the Resistance-”

“I won’t be telling you anything about the Resistance,” Rey interrupted, calm abruptly falling to the wayside in favor of a glare. 

“But-”

“But I won’t.” 

“She won’t,” Ben agreed, pinning Xors with a look when he appeared ready to argue. “That was one of Rey’s terms, and one I intend on honoring.” His gaze shifted to Cass. “Tell me about Anaxes.”

They talked of Anaxes, of the new ships due from Kuat, of tax-dodgers in Canto Bight and recruitment efforts in the Outer Rim. They debated the benefits of accepting a half-dozen new (and formerly Resistance-allied) worlds under First Order rule. They talked for several hours straight, and Rey spoke only twice, after her initial retort: once when Cass diplomatically asked if a wedding were in the offing (“Not yet”) and once when the matter of stormtrooper rations came up.

“What do you mean?”

Sul Piri regarded her gravely. “The physicians who care for the stormtroopers have suggested changing the formula, adjusting vitamin and caloric intake- more expensive, but-”

“They don’t get real food?” Rey’s voice was level, but he could see the way her hands clenched. 

“It’s more efficient to-”

Rey turned toward Ben, effectively giving Sul the cut direct. “What do they get?” she asked crisply, jaw tensing. 

“Ration bars.” 

_Change is slow,_ he wanted to say. _I’ve allowed them to choose names, I’ve made serious inroads in giving them actual lives-_

But Rey would want them to be fed. _Of course_ Rey would want them to be fed, and on something other than the bland blocks of nutrient-dense chewy paste that the Imperial and First Order armies had marched on for decades, especially now that she knew what fresh meat and bread and fruit tasted like. When she wasn’t in survival mode, Rey did prefer to be fair, and kind. 

“It would be one thing,” she said carefully after a moment of pause, hands flexing straight beneath the cover of the table, “to restrict them to ration bars on missions. I can see the reasoning for that. But off-duty- is there a valid reason, other than cost, to keep them on such a diet?”

“Tradition,” Cass said when no one else answered, at least a few- the ones who still saw stormtroopers as faceless automatons- looking as if they weren’t quite sure why this was an issue at all. “And a multitude of bigger problems, when Lord Ren began making his changes. But you have a good point.” She tapped a finger against the plate in front of her, which held only pastry crumbs. “I’ve eaten those rations, and they’re only fit for desperate circumstances.”

“But the inefficiency. The transition.” Near the end of the table Deze Vogrin curled her lips in delicate disgust. “Most bodies find such change… difficult.”

Ben felt a burst of hot anger from Rey, and she stood in one swift movement, scowling. “Being treated as blaster fodder is also _difficult,_” she bit out. “Being snatched from your parents at a young age is _difficult._ I refuse to believe that the First Order doesn’t have- have _someone_ capable of easing such a _transition._”

She was magnificent. Absolutely magnificent, and Deze had no clue how close she was to clambering onto the table and looming with intent. “I believe that’s why we employ a number of dietitians,” Ben said, allowing a hint of a smile to peek through the mask. “Is that not so, Sul?”

Sul blinked, jerked from his wary fascination. “Of course, my lord.”

“Discuss the matter with the appropriate departments, and bring us a plan within the next standard month.”

Rey turned her head, meeting Ben’s gaze. After a long, long moment she nodded, resuming her seat- but under the table, her fingertips bit into the fabric of her trousers. She felt frustrated, and annoyed, and a little guilty. 

_You don’t need to worry,_ he tried to tell her, and her eyelashes fluttered as she slid a look in his direction. _Perfect. You were perfect._

How much of that she received he wasn’t sure, but her hands unclenched and the meeting continued. 

“A month?” Rey asked stiffly as they walked back toward his quarters afterward. “Will it take that long, just for a plan?”

“He’ll have to consult with the medical staff,” Ben explained in a murmur. She was lagging but doing an excellent job of hiding it, and he checked his stride further to match hers. “The quartermasters, the chefs, the supervisors who handle scheduling for both the stormtroopers and the mess halls in general. It will take time, but you’re right that it’s worth doing.”

“Is it too small a thing?”

“Not when it comes to morale.” 

“Would you have done it?”

“Eventually.” He glanced down at the top of her head, one corner of his mouth quirking up when he saw that a wisp of hair at her temple had separated into a soft curl. “If I thought of it, which I might not have.”

She was silent for a moment. “That’s part of the partnership you want, isn’t it? Having me here to think of everything you don’t.”

“Yes.”

“I might ask you to regulate the scrap-masters on Jakku and planets like it, next,” Rey said pointedly. “I might yell about it in public. Would you send your stormtroopers and accountants to take care of such a petty matter?”

“It wouldn’t be petty, it would be just.” He remembered what he had seen of Rey’s childhood, of surviving on half and quarter portions when she should have had so much more. “We’ll create a committee.”

Rey grumbled something inaudible. “Is everything done by committee?”

“Yes,” Solah muttered from behind them. 

“We are only two people, and the First Order cares for thousands of planets.” He let some of his own frustration flow down the bond, trying to express the way his hands itched when every new problem appeared in front of him. “Delegating is both a blessing and a curse.”

A soft, annoyed sigh escaped her lips, but she nodded. “All right.”

They ate their midday meal in his sitting room, Rey drooping ever more in her seat- and when she fell asleep on his couch afterward, mid-conversation, he tucked a warm blanket over her without a word.

\- - -

Rey dropped to her knees, gasping for breath, and spat out a curse in Crolute. 

_Kriff._ She hadn’t been this weak since-

“Rey.”

Since her parents had left her on Jakku. “Don’t _tell_ me I’m overextending myself,” she bit out. Rey knew overextending herself, and it looked like tripping over her own feet while trying to clear rubble, angry and confused shouts rising when Force-lifted rocks tumbled to the ground unexpectedly. It wasn’t wheezing in a large, clean room, padded mats underfoot.

“But you are.” Ben bent over, concern flowing from him as he brushed strands of hair away from her face. “Let’s stretch.”

“All you want to do,” she protested wearily, “is kriffing _stretch._” She clambered to her feet, casting a dirty look at the staffs they had been sparring with, Rey on the pitifully weak offense against Ben’s barely moving defense. “And make me jog in a circle.”

And her with barely enough energy to enjoy the sight of his bare arms, or the way the thin material of his sleeveless top strained over his chest. She reached out, plucking at one of his black suspenders. “Is this your revenge for me getting mad at the meeting?”

“No,” he said firmly, handing her a bottle of water. “You’re allowed to get angry, Rey. You’re allowed to be kind, or annoyed, or needy- however you happen to feel.” His hand curved over her shoulder as she drank. “And I thought you handled them very well,” Ben told her in a murmur. “I’m proud of you, if that matters.”

And maybe it did. Maybe it was nice, to be praised. Rey licked a stray drop from her lower lip, her desert self still quite aware of how precious water was. “I won’t chase after your approval.”

“I hope not.” He smiled, a hint of humor appearing in his expression. “Come on, Rey- play with me.”

“Funny.”

“It was your idea in the first place.”

“I-”

_I have no idea how to do this._ The words flashed through her mind, raising heat in her cheeks. She had watched Resistance members flirting, courting, all degrees of whatever that was, but had never tried herself. She’d had neither the time nor the desire, and with Ben- with Ben, she had the desire, but perhaps not the time.

It was the galaxy, she knew. That was the major stumbling block. Unless she wanted to abduct Ben and fly to some obscure world, she couldn’t have him without the status and the responsibility and the ever-present eyes watching her every move. That wasn’t something Rey could admit aloud, not without potentially destabilizing everything he had worked to achieve.

_And the longer I stay, the more enmeshed I’ll be._

“I want you to look at my lightsaber.” When he hesitated, pulling back a little, she lifted a brow in challenge. “It belongs to your family. You’ve had every opportunity to take it- why haven’t you?”

“Because it chose you.” Ben had a way of touching her, of skimming his fingertips down her arms, that spoke of a shy desire to do so much more. “It took me too long to understand why.”

“Well.” She tightened the cap, rubbing her thumb over the metal. “Tell me.”

“I wasn’t worthy of it.” 

A second Crolute curse, and one far more foul than her first. 

“Rey-”

“_No._” Rey stepped out of his reach, stalking over toward where her weapon waited. “It wasn’t you being unworthy,” she snapped, snatching up the lightsaber, “it was the Force doing its balancing act.”

There was a flutter of annoyance from him, and when she looked back she saw that he had his arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight. “I don’t like how that makes you sound-”

Ben paused, gaze darting elsewhere. “As if you could have been anyone,” he finished after a moment, voice low and tense. “Because it could only have been you, Rey. For me.”

“Only me and only you.” Irritation gave way to pain rooted deep, which her short time with Ben had eased but not cured. “I’m not going to be the light to your dark, the deserving to your undeserving.” 

A part of Rey knew that it was unfair, to spit those words at Ben- Ben, who had been nothing but accepting since finding her on Bespin- but her mindset wasn’t quite logical, at that moment. Her throat was clenched, every breath hard and harsh; her body trembled with the urge to run and hide and strike. Panic was a living thing, and a creature far more feral than she had ever been. “I’m not going to wear white,” Rey found herself saying in a fervent rasp, as if it were the only thing that mattered or could ever matter. “Not even for you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly, moving forward with hands outstretched. “Give it to me.”

The demand, softly spoken, jarred her from the corrosive loop of _I won’t I can’t I’m not._ Rey took in a deep breath, forcing herself to concentrate on the present. “I did my best.”

“I know.” When she shoved the weapon toward him he took it, examining the casing. “How much were you able to salvage?” 

Academic. Calm. As if they were just two people speaking rationally, with nothing to be lost in the exchange. “Most of it.” She had fretted over every scrap of material, every decision. “I had to replace some of the wires, add length.”

“It looks more stable than my own weapon.” Ben lifted his head, a flash of dry humor in his eyes. “Not hard, I’ll admit.”

“It works when I need it to.”

“That’s what matters.” He stepped back, activating the brilliantly blue blade- and then, with an actual grin, triggered the second. “A staff,” Ben said admiringly in what was almost a low purr, and the ache in her throat lessened. “It suits you, sweetheart.”

“It’s what I know best.” The grip was almost too small for his hand, but he handled it with the same capability and assurance he used with his own weapon. “You aren’t mad that I destroyed your legacy?”

“You didn’t destroy it.” A twirl of the saber, the blue blurring to an arc before he deactivated both ends. “You improved it. And you’re part of that legacy, now.” He took one of her hands, closing it gently around the weapon. “It’s yours. Not because the Force chose at random, not because you’re the light to my dark. Because you’re Rey.” Ben spoke her name as if it were the most precious syllable in the galaxy. “Rey, and worthy.” 

“So are you.” He needed convincing of that just as she did, and maybe this would always be something they struggled with. Maybe that mental scarring would always itch, for both of them. “And you’re not that dark.”

Ben wore the trappings, wrapped himself in shadows, but they were just that- trappings. He was soft, beneath the disguise, and if she stayed she would guard that softness with ferocity. 

“You’re not that light.” 

They regarded each other for one long, electric moment, Rey settling into the notion. “Where does that leave us?”

“Somewhere in between, I think.” 

“I can deal with that.” It suited her nature, that liminal space. She set down the weapon, offering a tentative smile. “Do you still want to stretch?” 

Instead of answering he unexpectedly pulled her into an embrace, arms closing around her tightly and his next words spoken against her hair. “I love you.” Underneath her ear she heard the stutter in his heartbeat, the quickening of his breath, and her body echoed both. “I’ll love you if you stay, if you leave, if you exclusively wear Snoke’s old robes for the rest of your life-”

A shocked, unsteady laugh escaped Rey’s lips. 

“I’ll love you when you need to hide, or fight, or cry. When you’re in a panic, or full of righteous fury.” He nuzzled at her hair, his end of the bond open wide. “My love for you,” he murmured, “has no conditions.” 

And she didn’t know what to say, or if she could even form words at all. It wasn’t panic freezing her tongue, this time, but something equally overwhelming and difficult to parse- so Rey did the only thing she could. She slipped her arms around him, allowing herself the luxury of being held, and breathed.

\- - -

_…several known bounty hunters have appeared in Cloud City (a list is attached), but oddly I’ve only heard vague rumors of an actual bounty. It’s possible the Resistance has passed the word along the most secret of channels, but the notion feels wrong, to me- I have a hard time believing that your mother would allow them to set a bounty on Rey’s head. Maz has led me to believe that she is very fond of Rey, and from a practical viewpoint (given the galaxy’s fascination with the holovid and your presumed romance) it wouldn’t be politic for the Resistance to call for Rey’s blood, not if they want to keep what allies they have. I’m more inclined to believe that someone has gone behind Leia’s back, for one reason or another. _

_Please tell Rey that I’m pleased she finds the flowers comforting, and that she should feel free to send me any questions she might have. I have no doubt that they will thrive for her; Queen’s Heart, in particular, roots fast and strong._

_Take care of yourself, little starfighter._


	8. venom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing hostess this weekend, so I wanted to get the next chapter out early. I should be back on my regular schedule the weekend of 2/29.

For a moment, on waking, the sound of someone else breathing low and deep beside him was a natural, lovely thing- like the remnant of a dream, one in which Rey shared his bed and smiled sleepily at him every morning. 

And then he opened his eyes, and Rey was _there,_ curled up under his blankets, her fingertips peeking out from beneath the covers. She snuffled a little in her sleep, a slight furrow forming between her brows, and instinctively he reached out, smoothing a fingertip lightly over the crease. The moment they touched what he could see shifted: bedding lighter than his black, a wall behind her instead of the open expanse between his bed and the fresher door. The bond, bringing them to each other again. 

_Surprised it hasn’t happened before,_ he thought, feeling a twinge of disappointment that she wasn’t there of her own volition. _I should wake her, warn her-_

Or he could let her sleep until the connection disappeared, and tell her over the morning meal. 

_She needs her sleep,_ he tried to convince himself, carefully curling his hand over hers to keep the connection open. Rey was getting better, day by day, but she was still regaining her strength. Waking her would be unkind. Waking her would be counterproductive. 

So he didn’t, though he did- out of guilt- resist the urge to stare at her face, averting his gaze to the wall behind her instead. Before her arrival the space had been blank, but at some point since a painting had been hung, and one he could vaguely make out in the gloom. It appeared to depict a meadow, maybe a pond, and had likely graced the walls of some Canto Bight pleasure house before being offered up in lieu of owed taxes. 

He wondered what else would be new, if he took a tour of her rooms. Wondered if she had asked for something to cover bare walls, or if Prehta had leapt at the chance to please her. 

_I should take her to the vault myself,_ Ben realized, wishing he had thought of it earlier. _She could have her pick of art, of curiosities, of whatever might catch her fancy._

Rey’s hand twitched under his, drawing his attention back in time to see her face relax, lips curling into a small smile as if she enjoyed whatever she saw in her dream. 

_Beautiful._ Maybe he would tell her that, over caf, if the idea of the bond putting them in bed together didn’t disturb her. Neither of them had broken her rule, after all; Ben could hardly help it if the Force was up to new tricks, and if she hadn’t quailed at his declaration of love just a few days before she might enjoy being told how much he liked seeing her next to him when he woke up.

_Or she might call you out for not waking her up in the first place,_ he thought dryly, forcing himself to look back at the painting again. The painting was safe, the painting was-

A shadow crept over what might be a meadow, small and cylindrical and multi-legged. Horror-fueled adrenaline shot through him as he sat bolt-upright, jostling Rey awake. She blinked at him in incomprehension, annoyance beginning to flare in her mind- and then the kouhun dropped from the painting onto her bed, and the connection broke. 

Ben scrambled out of bed, blankets and sheets hampering his movement and costing him much-needed seconds. Calling his lightsaber to his hand he sprinted out of the suite, cursing the startled stormtroopers dodging out of his way, his own inability to make it to her side any sooner. Rey’s end of the bond was an extended feral scream that could have been anger or pain or fear and he didn’t have a single kriffing clue, didn’t have the luxury of checking; he could only throw every bit of his power at the entrance to her quarters and force the doors open with a shriek of crumpled metal.

And there she was, when he shot into her bedroom: standing with lightsaber in hand, bathed in a blue glow as she stared down at the kouhun and her bed, both hacked to pieces. Rey’s head snapped toward him a beat later, eyes wide with shock.

“Did it bite you?” he asked frantically, moving toward her despite the live weapon in her hand and her dazed expression. “_Rey?_”

“What the kriff is that?” she asked, words gasped.

“A kouhun.” She trembled, a little, when he took her by the shoulders, but did extinguish the blade. “If it bit you, we need to inject an anti-venom immediately.”

“No.” Rey took in a deep breath, gradually appearing more cognizant. “It didn’t bite me, I just-”

She quieted, looking behind him warily, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Solah on the threshold. His knight flicked on the light before taking off her helm, giving the bed a narrow-eyed look. “An assassination attempt?”

Rey made an odd, quiet noise in the back of her throat. “On me?”

_Wearing your heart,_ Solah had said, and Ben felt a burst of rage focused almost entirely on himself. Rey was supposed to be safe, with him; he had promised her time to heal-

“So it seems.” Solah’s gaze fell to their bare feet. “There could be others, and neither of you are dressed for this. I’ll oversee the search.”

Ben tucked a strand of hair behind Rey’s ear, keeping his eyes on her even as he growled out an order in a low, firm voice. “I want to know everyone involved in this plot.”

“You will,” Solah promised with deadly quiet, flicking a commanding gesture at the nearest clutch of stormtroopers. “You’ll know everything.”

The annoyed grunt he received when he scooped Rey up into his arms was not unexpected, but she merely glared and muttered barely audible threats as he carried her back to his own rooms. She seemed fine- fine, if jittery- but he wouldn’t feel any better until he had her safe and in something warmer than the leggings and sweater she wore. 

_My sweater,_ he realized belatedly as the door to his quarters shut behind them. She was barefoot, wearing his sweater, and tucked against his bare chest she practically radiated displeasure- and then he placed her carefully in the middle of his bed (_warmer,_ being his weak justification) and that feeling of displeasure increased. “Sit,” she snapped, pointing at the space beside her. 

He obeyed.

“That was the bond, right?” She twined her fingers together on her lap, every inch of her tense. “Because it’s- everything is a little muddled.”

“Yes. I woke up with you beside me.” Maybe he should have woken her up. Maybe-

“Ben.” Quiet, soft. “I’m not mad at you.” Rey looked up at him, fingers still clasped tight. “I half-expected it, the bond doing… that. And I- I would have enjoyed it, if I had woken up before you.” 

“Really?”

“I told you I liked it too much.” With a sigh she flopped back, shutting her eyes. “Someone wants me dead.”

He lay down beside her, repressing the surge of anger those four words inspired. “Rey-”

“I’ve never seen her without a mask.”

It took him a moment to understand. “Solah?”

“She’s pretty.”

He supposed she was, by standard humanoid definition. “It wasn’t her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I know.” Her fingers slid free, hands settling on her stomach. “It’s just been an illuminating morning. Someone should check your rooms.”

“They will.” There was nothing living near them; he could tell that much. “I failed you.”

“How?”

“I thought I could protect you, here. I was wrong.”

“Ben.” She turned onto her side, looping an arm over his waist. “Ben, shut up.”

“I-”

“I mean it.” Her fingertips grazed his lower back, the tingling thrill he felt twin with hers for a brief, brief moment- and with it, a flash of skin on skin, of her underneath him, of her nails biting into his back. Rey met his gaze with a guilty look, cheeks red. “We’ve both thought it,” she said defensively.

He shifted his hips away from hers. “Often.”

But always with her peaking before and with him, with her soft and wet and sated by the time he spilled into her. Always with her smiling and keeping him close, her fingers trailing through his hair.

“I can think about kriffing you without accepting your offer.”

_I love you._ “You can.”

She rolled away onto her other side, curling up into a grumpy bundle. “I’m the one who nearly died,” she muttered, nudging at her lightsaber with an index finger. “Your blanket is softer than mine.”

Ben curled up behind her, daring to press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. “A criminal offense.”

“Ben.”

“It is. If I had known-”

“Ben.”

“Hmm?”

“Could we stay like this and just be… be quiet, for a while?”

He tucked her more firmly against him, blinking away tears. He could have woken to news of her death, could have woken to a blighted future- but she was alive, and breathing under his arm. “Of course.”

Ben shifted one leg to cover her bare feet (_cold, she’s cold_), and held her until they both stopped shaking. 

\- - -

“Your wardrobe is out of my reach; I’ll have to alter this on the fly.” Prehta flicked a glance at Ben over Rey’s shoulder, growing pale around the lips. “My lady.”

“He knows you call me by my name.” Rey turned. “Right?”

“I do.” He looked up from his datapad, pinning Prehta with a look. He should have been in his office, or elsewhere on the ship, but he showed no sign of leaving his spot on the couch- and though outwardly he looked every inch the Supreme Leader, beneath she sensed the bruised, frantic man who had extended his hand in the throne room. “And provided she wasn’t party to the assassination attempt-”

“B- _Kylo._”

“-I have no issue with her.”

Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t eye everyone who stepped through the door as if they were his own uncle. “No issue,” Rey repeated, trying to give Prehta a reassuring smile. “So is this- what is this?” she asked, holding up a close-fitting dark green over-robe. “Just one part, I hope.”

“Yes. Can you dress in-”

Prehta waved a hand toward the door of Ben’s bedroom, and Rey nodded. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

“What?” Ben asked when they were alone again, his voice a low murmur. “I meant it. Provided she doesn’t try to kill you, Prehta can do as she likes.”

“You can leave, you know.” Rey didn’t even try at infusing any kind of defensiveness in her voice or giving an outright order; she was too tired to do more than step close and sit beside him. “I don’t feel any threat from her. I never have.”

“Neither do I.” Ben set aside his datapad, his mask dropping away and next words coming out low and harsh. “But I also thought your quarters were _safe._”

And he hated himself for that belief, that much was clear; was still dwelling on it despite what she had said earlier. “I’ve never been safe.” She shrugged in the face of his stormy expression, and continued with what she saw as cold, hard fact now that only a manageable level of fear remained. “Jakku, the Resistance, here- danger is nothing new.”

Instead of arguing he closed his eyes, lips quivering and hands clenching tight around his thighs. “You should be safe.” Guilt flooded the bond, thick and impossible to ignore. He peered at her through his lashes when she moved closer, hand curling over his. “Before,” Ben continued softly, swallowing hard. “Now. Always.”

“Yes.” They both should have had safe childhoods, both should have been raised with love and care and respect, but what should have been was not what had happened. “You, too.”

When he blinked, looking as if no one had ever said such a thing to him before (and that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair at all; if his family had ever once stopped to _look_), Rey charged over a boundary she herself had set with reckless and irresponsible abandon, and did so on nothing more than need and a moment’s thought. He had given her assurance, days ago, and she would do the same- but not daring the words, she instead grabbed his collar and jerked his head down, planting a firm kiss on his lips with more intensity than any kind of finesse. 

Not that there would be any finesse. It was her first kiss, after all, and nothing at all like she had expected- so maybe it was her fault that she felt nothing but embarrassed and confused and awkward, because _kriff,_ everyone she had caught kissing in dark corners on Resistance bases had looked to be enjoying themselves an unreasonable amount. Maybe she was just bad at it. Maybe she would never be good at it. Maybe-

And then Ben, who had seemed to be frozen in shock, made a choked noise and slid his fingers into her hair, angling his head and moving his mouth in a way that made her body spark. 

_Oh,_ she realized in a daze. _Like that._ Rey had the sense that Ben had no more an idea of what he was doing than she did (_prodigy, he’s a prodigy, it’s that kriffing mouth_) but risking discovery in a storage closet was looking more and more understandable. She chased him when he tried to pull back, scrambling onto his lap with the same single-mindedness her younger self would have felt going for a hunk of kyber lying precariously on the cross-beam of a star destroyer, no matter how deadly the drop below. Because he was hers, and-

_Priceless._

And if he had tried to keep kissing her when she wanted to stop, she would have been hurt, and angry. Rey was off his lap in seconds, landing on her ass on the floor in her haste. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, even as he followed after her with a wide-eyed, hungry look. 

“Why?”

“You wanted to stop and I wouldn’t let you.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and then- unbelievably, adorably, _annoyingly_\- he grinned. “I wanted to look at your face.”

“What?”

“I wanted to look you in the eyes.” His hand closed around one of her ankles, thumb stroking slowly over her skin. “I wanted to see your expression, freshly kissed. And then I would have kissed you again.”

“Oh.” Rey flexed her hands against the cold, hard floor, trying to process that statement. The morning had been far too eventful. “I’m going to put a rug, here,” she said absurdly, blurting out the first words that came to mind.

“Good idea.”

“You’ll feel better if I see a doctor and let you follow me around all day, won’t you?”

_I would feel better, with him,_ she acknowledged. _At least one person wants me dead, stars only know how many people want him dead-_

“Yes.”

_And he loves me._

“I suppose you could do Supreme Leader type things on your datapad while I let one of your doctors poke at me,” Rey conceded, knowing she was doing so as much for herself as for him. 

He leaned in, brushing a soft, gentle kiss over her lips. There was going to be a lot of kissing, she suspected. Probably more than that, eventually; her notion of disappearing into the galactic wilds was growing ever more hazy and disagreeable. Rey felt a hint of burgeoning panic (_eyes, and opinions, and expectations_) and had to remind herself that _she_ had done this, she had thrown herself into the unknown with careless disregard. She had from the beginning.

Because she had wanted him to find her, at least unconsciously. Going to Bespin had been one thing- the Force’s desires were impossible to ignore, at times- choosing a thinly veiled alias another. She had laid out a path for him as clearly as if she had shipped herself to the First Order a second time. 

“Don’t fret,” he murmured, standing and offering a hand. “I know that wasn’t acceptance; I’m just hopeful.”

That, as best she could tell, was the truth, and so she allowed him to help her to her feet. 

When Rey walked into his bedroom and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror- kiss-swollen lips, tangled hair, mussed clothing- she sighed, slapping the button to close the door behind her. “Did you hear that?” she asked Prehta, who was arranging cosmetics on the dresser with the precision of someone trying desperately to distract themselves. 

“Hear what?”

“Prehta.”

Her stylist carefully set down a pack of hair pins, squaring the edges to the dresser’s top. “Some. I didn’t mean to, and I won’t tell. And I had nothing to do with… earlier.”

Rey sat on the bed, tapping one foot against the floor. “I know. I’m more useful to you alive than dead.”

Prehta whirled, her long black vest swirling with her, looking as if she were about to yell- and then closed her mouth, visibly annoyed. “Well,” she said finally, “in a cold, pragmatic kind of way, you are technically correct. Though I’d prefer our relationship not be so… stark.”

“Same, honestly.” Rey drew her legs up, feeling a sudden smidgen of fear that something might crawl over her feet and sting. “I’m sorry. That was unkind.”

“An assassination attempt would put anyone on edge.” Prehta relaxed, a flush reddening her cheeks as she fiddled with the brush in her hands. “He seems… fond.”

Never had Rey heard such an understatement, and she sensed it had been intentional. “A little, maybe,” she said, and gave herself over to Prehta’s expertise.

\- - -

The doctor who saw to Rey was perfectly professional, perfectly respectful, but how much that had to do with Ben glowering in a corner Rey wasn’t sure. She could have kept him out of the room- and on any other day would have- but it was comforting to have him nearby.

And amusing, given the way he was forced to choose between hunching inward or sprawling out of a chair too small for his frame. 

“Time and rest and balanced meals,” the doctor said after checking Rey’s heart, her lungs, her blood-work. “I’d like to have you come in for a pelvic exam, at some point-”

Rey blinked, unsure what he meant but fairly certain she wouldn’t like it. Across the room Ben ducked his head. “What?”

“Which could of course be performed by a droid, or a female member of the staff,” the doctor said quickly, misunderstanding her question. “It’s routine, and-”

He hesitated, briefly. “And if you intend to have children, recommended.”

_Ah._

“Which might be more difficult for you in general, given your history of malnutrition.”

And she stilled, at that, unnerved- but there was that dark-haired girl to think of, and surely the Force wouldn’t have taunted her so without reason. 

_Unless you missed your chance. Unless you had a brief, brief window-_

Ben stood, moving across the room with a swift stride that sent his over-robe fluttering behind him. “That’s a question for another time,” he said firmly, an edge to his words. “What can you offer her today?”

“Uh… vitamin supplements, to cover a few minor deficiencies.” The doctor looked unnerved, but continued. “A birth control implant would also be standard.”

“And something I need,” Rey confirmed after a moment of thought, and was surprised by a spike of anger from Ben. 

“The Resistance didn’t give you one?” he asked, gently taking one of her hands in his. Anger _for_ her, then, and not at her, which made more sense. 

“No.” Maybe they hadn’t expected her to need it, maybe they had been low; either way it had never been offered and Rey had never thought to ask. They had been too expensive, on Jakku, and common only among those who worked in the brothels. Scavengers had too often done without and taken the risk. “That’s standard?”

“It is.” Ben flicked the doctor, who had been standing silent nearby, a sharp look. “Give her what she wants. Carefully.”

She barely felt the implantation in her bicep, barely felt even the prick of the needle carrying the numbing agent. Rey kept her gaze on Ben’s fingers, twined around hers, and revisited her mental list.

_Food. Medicine. Water. Fair trade._

Thinking on the women she had known at Niima Outpost- those who had died in childbirth, or who were worn out by too many babies in too few years- she added a new item to her list. 

_Affordable birth control._

Better to think on the changes she could conceivably make than on the threat to her own life.


	9. faceless

“What do you know.”

His knights, unmasked, exchanged a look. “Well,” Kiren said after a beat of silence, “the kouhun came through the bedroom air vent, via an access panel in the maintenance tunnel-”

“Those panels can only be opened by crew members with special clearance for _exactly_ this reason,” Ben interrupted in a low, tense voice, unable to stop his tongue. Beside him Rey sat with arms folded tight, her gaze moving from one knight to the next in a manner that suggested she was memorizing their faces. She was on high-alert, her emotional state spiky despite her insistence that she was _fine, I’m fine, you’re acting like no one’s ever tried to kill me before._

That- because of _course_ he was concerned- and the revelations of her physical had him on edge. Ben had done his best to stay calm and shield her from his thoughts, but her own feelings had come through clearly: the deep, bruised pulse when the doctor had mentioned her potential difficulty having children, the flash of irritation on learning that the option to have a birth control implant was considered basic medical care. The fact that the Resistance had given her a basic panel of vaccines on her arrival was cold comfort, and as much for their own protection as for her own. 

_Wouldn’t do them any good, if their Jedi came down with rust poisoning or started off a wave of Kaminoan spotted fever,_ he thought sourly. _But stars forbid she go to bed with someone, protected._

Which didn’t sound like his mother at all. Hadn’t she called for the strengthening of galactic bodily autonomy laws on a regular basis, as a senator? Hadn’t she spent most of his childhood on the board of a Chandrilan non-profit dedicated to expanding access to all forms of reproductive health care, including contraception?

Perhaps she had changed. Ben certainly had. 

“You’re right.” Kiren shot a brief glance at Solah. “The time, date, and ID number of the person who accessed the panel is noted on the maintenance log.”

“And are they in custody?”

“Not exactly.”

“_Why?_” Ben bit out, rapidly losing what remained of his patience. Never had he seen his knights so kriffing tentative. “_Who was it?_”

One corner of Solah’s mouth curled up in a wry smile. “You.”

The silence that followed- stunned, on his part- was broken by a loud laugh from Rey. “Someone has been careless with his credentials,” she said teasingly, though there was an edge underlying her words. “Don’t look at me like that; I know you had nothing to do with it,” she added, teasing shifting to a sharper tone. “If you wanted me dead, you’d do it yourself. You wouldn’t send a venomous bug after me like a coward.”

Ylse and Olen both briefly grinned, the latter murmuring slyly, “He’s not known for his subtlety.”

“Thank you.” Ben could barely speak the words, his jaw so tight and rage building so quickly that it was difficult to present himself with any kind of composure. Someone had used his name in their attempt on Rey’s life, and the knowledge was akin to the shredding of his own skin. “My access code will have to be changed.”

They could do anything, otherwise. Cut off oxygen to every deck, start the self-destruct process for the entire dreadnaught, fire on the rest of the fleet. Turn the maintenance droids rogue, with instructions to attack everyone on sight, or with just Rey’s face in their memory banks.

“Done,” Solah said immediately, handing him a small datacard. “My lord-”

“Do you have any other information?”

She eyed him warily, knowing him well enough to recognize just how close he was to exploding. “No.”

“Then go.” Ben took in a breath, forcing himself into some semblance of calm. “Please. And tomorrow-”

Tomorrow he had obligations in a different part of the fleet, and at a time when Rey would need to rest. “Tomorrow I want at least four of you with Rey, after the midday meal.”

He felt a spike of grumbling irritation from the woman in question. “Nap duty,” she bit out. “My apologies.”

Solah nearly smiled. “Ah, but your rest periods are becoming so exciting.” She and the others stood, bowing slightly, and were gone in short order. Then, and only then, did Ben stand and start pacing the room. 

“Do I need to kiss you again?” Rey asked after a minute or two, and he stopped in his tracks, pressing his hands flat against the wall. 

“If you didn’t _enjoy_ it-”

“Of _course_ I enjoyed it,” she interjected, feeling rather like a sparking stormcloud in his mind. He looked over his shoulder, taking in the way she dug her nails into the couch cushions. “Stars, Ben. I wanted to make both of us feel better, not insult you.”

His shoulders slumped, hands slipping down the wall until they hung at his sides. “They used my name, my code,” he said quietly, making his slow way toward her. “I wasn’t part of this, Rey. I swear.”

“I know.” She sounded impatient, but still tugged at his sleeve until he sat next to her. “If you ever decided to kill me we would be face to face and evenly matched- and you wouldn’t.” Rey twined her fingers with his, calloused fingertips trailing against his skin, and her voice dropped low and almost awed. “Because you also wouldn’t lie about loving me. And you do.”

“I really do.” 

On a cellular level, Ben suspected. As if she were a part of him, missing for far too long. 

“So you’ve had a security breach. Unless,” she added in a way that verged on impish, “you were just desperate to share a bed again.”

When he stared at her, eyes widening and heat flooding his cheeks, Rey shrugged with a half-hearted smile. “Would either of us feel comfortable tonight, sleeping alone? I wouldn’t.” She grimaced, continuing with a muttered, “You are the only one I would ever trust with that information.”

Ben took in several deep breaths before replying, trying to pinpoint her exact emotional state. Not pleased, not disappointed, but settled. He would have preferred elated; would have preferred that she actually had a choice in the matter. “My blanket is softer,” he said finally, and was relieved when her smile turned genuine. “It will be like our last night on Bespin. No expectations, just… just us, sleeping.” He hesitated, and then forged on. “Unless you want to leave, because my promise still stands.”

“No.” She spoke quietly, almost distantly, frowning down at her lap. For a long moment he thought that was all she had to say, but then she murmured, “I think there are things I need to take care of.”

Which could mean anything, from regaining her own stamina to housing every orphan in the galaxy, but Ben couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope, nonetheless. 

\- - -

“We’re sleeping, Prehta.” Rey eyed the ensemble laid out on the bed skeptically. “This looks-”

“That is _nightwear,_” Prehta said firmly, hands on her hips. 

“It looks decadent.” 

“It befits your status.” Prehta drew herself up with the air of someone fully prepared to go to war over clothing. “It befits the _bed._”

Prehta looked as if she were vaguely embarrassed by that last phrase, but determined to stand behind it. _It is her job,_ Rey acknowledged wryly, taking another look at the embroidered velvet robe and delicate nightgown. Neither were sheer, at least, and both were a dark green. _Her job to dress me for meetings, and exercise, and dinners, and-_

Rey touched the robe, skimming her fingertips over the soft material and embroidered vines. It was also her job to dress Rey for sleeping, and (theoretically) for sex. 

“Stylists know so much about their clients, don’t they?” she said soberly. “More than most realize.”

Prehta’s stance relaxed. “After a while,” she said in a quiet, serious tone, “I’ll know your cycle as well as or better than the medical staff. I’ll know if your lover mishandles you, or if you’ve had a rough sparring session- and I’ll be able to tell the difference. I’ll know if your waistbands need to be loosened, and why. I’ll know many, many things, because my job requires me to know your body as well as I know my own.”

“Do others realize how much power that gives you?”

“Do you realize how miserable you could make my life, or how easily you could have me shoved out of an airlock?” Prehta shrugged. “Do you hate it?”

“No.”

“Then put it on, and see what you think.” She gave Rey a considering look. “May I curl your hair?”

“Also no.”

“Ah, well.” She gave an airy sigh. “Give and take, you see? We’ll learn each other eventually, or you’ll find someone you like better- and until then, would it be so terrible to make the man who is so clearly _fond_ of you pant, just a little?”

Would it? Rey wasn’t entirely sure, but it wasn’t as if she had experience in these matters. 

And Ben was very patient, when it came to her. 

Too patient, perhaps. She briefly dwelt on what would happen if she pushed him a little too far, a little too often, and wasn’t entirely put off by the notion. “It does look soft.”

“It is. And comfortable. Very comfortable.”

Annoyingly, she was correct. “I look like some pampered holovid heiress,” Rey said flatly, trying not to show just how much she was enjoying the feel of the fabric and how she looked in the mirror. Weren’t optics only public? Wouldn’t it be better, to eschew luxury in private?

“No,” Prehta replied with satisfaction. “You look like an empress.” She twitched one sleeve straight. “And someone who is allowed to enjoy soft things.” When Rey met her gaze in the mirror she continued. “The job isn’t easy,” she stressed. “There will be other assassination attempts; there will be more trying days than easy ones. Wear the soft, pretty things if you like them. Enjoy the embroidery, the flowing lines, the well-soled shoes. You are _allowed._”

“Are you also a therapist on the sly?” Rey asked suspiciously, feeling disarmed by Prehta’s earnest appeal. 

“No, but there is a little bit of cross-over.”

“Huh.” Rey smoothed her hands over the skirt of her robe, almost wistful. Rey of no one and nothing, wearing such luxury to bed. Ben would undoubtedly enjoy the sight, but- 

_But I like it, for myself._ The nap tickled her palms, making her feel a little punch-drunk on texture. Flowers and vines curled around the collar and hems and down the front edges, and the fabric itself smelled of something quietly sweet. She’d sleep alone, in this- if her stolen sweater weren’t available- and laugh into her heap of pillows and blankets in the dark, hugging the velvet around her. 

“Well,” Rey said after a moment. “I suppose I’m ready for bed.”

\- - -

It wasn’t odd, sharing his quarters with Rey. It felt overdue, even if the current state of their relationship had him waiting in the sitting room rather than preparing for sleep beside her. 

It also felt a little like a wedding night, what with her stylist with her beyond closed doors, dressing Rey for only the bedroom. Not that he expected anything of the kind, though he couldn’t help but relive the kiss that had ended with Rey on the floor, flustered. She had kissed with the same devouring need she displayed around food, had kissed as if he were the only source of water and she were desert-parched. 

Growing hard just thinking of her mouth on his and her weight on his lap, he abruptly stood from the couch to stalk over to the newest spot of color in his rooms. Rey’s plants, which she had retrieved herself after the excitement had died down and the pots had been scanned for uninvited guests. 

_Queen’s Heart roots fast and strong,_ Lando had written (and Ben made a mental note to write to him the next day, to keep him apprised of recent events). Knowing Lando, he had been speaking both literally and metaphorically. 

(“An unapologetic romantic,” his father had said at one point, ruffling Ben’s hair. “It must work, because Lando never sleeps alone when he doesn’t want to.”

And then his mother had glared, and his father had muttered something inaudible, and the topic had been dropped.)

Maybe Lando was right, in this instance. Maybe Rey would choose to take root, and in the way that some particularly tough plants did: fiercely, and almost impossible to eradicate without destroying an entire patch of land for years to come. Ben lightly touched one blossom with a fingertip, fondly thinking _sounds like Rey._

He didn’t turn when Prehta left a moment later, didn’t even turn when Rey emerged on quiet feet. “I hope you’re not still feeling guilty,” she said. “If I stay, you feeling guilty every time something vaguely unfortunate happens would eventually get old.”

“An assassination attempt is vaguely unfortunate?” he asked, smiling slightly at the words and the tart edge to her voice. “Stars only know what you would consider _truly_ unfortunate.”

“You dying, for one.”

He did turn, at that, only to be distracted from their conversation by the sight of her. Her stance was defiant, arms crossed over her chest, expression making it clear that if he downplayed the idea of his own death she would snarl. She looked the way he had so often imagined during the last year, when he had fantasized of Rey as his ruling equal: dressed in the luxury she deserved, and ready to fight for what she believed in. 

She lifted a brow, looking some blend of annoyed and pleased. “I like it,” Rey told him bluntly, rubbing a fold of her robe between two fingers. “No matter what Prehta thinks-”

“What does she think?”

“That I should tempt you, a little bit.” 

Ben couldn’t find it within himself to be irritated by that idea. “You tempt me a great deal, no matter what you wear,” he replied with equal bluntness, and she blushed even as one corner of her mouth quirked upward. 

“I’m not trying to manipulate you by wearing something pretty to bed.”

“I know.” Ben stepped forward, feeling more at ease than he had since first waking that morning, and closed his hands around her waist. “Though I wouldn’t consider that manipulation.”

“Good.” She placed a hand flat against his chest, briefly biting her lower lip. “You sleep shirtless, don’t you?”

“I overheat easily, but-”

“No; dress the way you normally would.”

He bent a little toward her. “Not even a cowl?” he asked teasingly, and was rewarded by a snort and her mouth on his, her fingers once more curled over his collar. She was developing a penchant for grabbing him like that, and- the thought occurring a little distantly as he tugged her close, crushing the velvet as the kiss deepened- Ben liked it immensely. Who knew that after years of being denied his own autonomy he would thrill at someone pulling him down to their level and holding him there. 

“Go, get ready,” she said after they parted, sounding just as breathless as he felt. “Unless you have work to do?”

Ben always had work to do. “It will keep.”

She was sitting cross-legged on his bed when he emerged from the fresher some minutes later, robe puddled around her. Her gaze flitted over his bare chest with an air of appreciation before meeting his eyes. “The troublesome part with figuring out who wants to kill me is how many enemies we both have.”

“Is that the troublesome part?” he replied wryly, settling on his usual side of the bed (interesting, how she had automatically taken the other) and leaning back against the pillows. “And not that it happened at all?”

She shifted to face him, tapping a finger on his knee. “The Resistance, all those powerful families that wanted you kriffing their heirs, everyone in the First Order who hates you or me or both of us. That worm could have come from anyone.”

“Anyone in position to steal my codes.” He took hold of her hem, rubbing his thumb over the embroidered vines. “Hux, maybe.”

“Would he go for me first?”

“You did embarrass him on arrival.” Ben grinned at the memory. “Hux is exactly that petty, though- to be fair- he’s more likely to seethe over the insult until everyone has forgotten about it and _then_ make his carefully plotted move.”

“Yes, we must be fair to Hux,” she said dryly. “Perhaps the Resistance hired someone capable of cracking your systems and sneaking aboard.”

A shadow had crept into her expression as she said the words, for all that she said them with feigned lightness. “That’s not my mother’s style,” he replied quietly. 

“But Lando thinks someone might have gone behind her back, so…”

Ben looked down, eyes on the vines and flowers under his thumb. “Difficult to get anything past my mother,” he said after a moment.

Rey hesitated briefly. “I’m not sure she ever regained all of her strength after the destruction of the Raddus. She’s still sharp, but… tired.”

He felt a wash of guilt, remembering the moment he had recognized her presence on the ship, how his thumb had hovered over the trigger. “I was there.”

“I know.” She sounded so matter-of-fact that he automatically lifted his head, meeting her gaze. “I also know that you had a chance to shoot and didn’t take it. Your mother said so.”

“Yes.” And his distracted state had allowed someone else to do so instead. “Who would take the risk?”

“I keep thinking of Poe,” she admitted after a few seconds, sounding reluctant. “Though I have a hard time believing that he would jump straight to killing me. Drag me back to the Resistance for Leia’s judgment, yes; try to talk me into being whatever he considers reasonable, yes. Outright murder, not so much.”

“He’s never been particularly reasonable,” Ben muttered, knowing the sentiment wasn’t exactly fair, and Rey pinned him with a look. 

“You know him?”

“When we were children, before I went to live with my uncle. He was-”

Ben paused, considering his words. “Cocky. Bright, intellectually and otherwise. I was quiet and awkward and desperate to please, and he made being liked look so effortless.”

Rey moved closer. “Desperate to please?” she asked softly, and he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. 

“I tried to be very, very good for a very long time.” Tried in ways that had stifled every bit of him that couldn’t be expressed as the perfect, unshadowed son. They had sent him away despite his best efforts, and his attempts at being the perfect padawan hadn’t gone over any better. “Poe was an easy child for adults to love.”

Rey planted herself on his lap with a scowl and a muttered curse (he hoped she stayed, he hoped she spent the rest of her life pinning him down), drilling one finger against his chest. “_You_ should have been loved.”

“Wouldn’t that have been lovely.” A bittersweet admission, but tempered by his joy in Rey’s proximity. “You can’t change that, sweetheart, anymore than I could reach back in time and save you from Jakku. We’ve covered this ground.”

“I’m aware, but I still don’t like you comparing yourself as lesser than Poe kriffing Dameron, who liked to make jokes about me being a pure vessel when others flirted in my general vicinity,” she said grumpily. “He made the same kind of joke when I ate too fast, as if being Force-sensitive should automatically give me good table manners.”

“If it helps,” Ben told her, repressing his own irritation at Poe’s so-called jokes, “I love you just as you are.”

“So you’ve said.” Her gaze dropped to his chest, touch gentling as she slowly, carefully, spread her hand over his skin. “You’re beautiful, Ben.” Rey brushed a light kiss over his lips. “And mine?”

“Very much yours,” he whispered, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Until I die.”

With a faint sigh she leaned in, nestling against him with her head on his shoulder. “Do you think,” she murmured, “that Poe recognizes you, as an adult?”

“Maybe.” He folded his arms around her, closing his eyes. His fierce scavenger, cuddling. “Perhaps.”

Would knowing that Leia had kept such a secret be enough to make Poe go against her wishes and orders?

Maybe. Perhaps.

They moved under the covers, eventually, Rey insistently plastering herself against his back like he were the last portion pack in the universe and never shedding her velvet robe. 

Like Bespin, Ben decided, but better. 

\- - -

_This isn’t foolish,_ Rey told herself firmly the next day as Solah stared at her coolly. _This is necessary. Useful._

And Ben might not appreciate being told after the fact, but Rey didn’t intend to (theoretically) be the kind of spouse who asked permission before seeing to the wellbeing of those under her care. 

Theoretically.

“You want me,” Solah said crisply after a long moment of thought, “to parade you around a bunch of stormtroopers carrying blasters when someone we have not yet caught has already made one attempt on your life?”

“They’re more likely to talk, without-”

“We know his birth name,” Solah said when Rey hesitated. “You can call him Ben, around us.”

Rey nodded, unsure if she should feel relieved or annoyed. Who was Solah, to Ben? She didn’t like this feeling of jealousy, even if or especially because it ran so close to _someone wants my haul._

Ben wasn’t scrap, after all. He was so much more, and whatever had happened in the past (if anything had happened at all; why did she care _so much_) was not for Rey to quibble over. 

“I want to see their living quarters,” she said carefully, throttling back all emotion. “I won’t know what improvements need to be made, otherwise. And I want to do the same for the engineering staff, and the janitors-”

“And the prisoners as well, probably,” Solah muttered. “No wonder he loves you; neither of you have any sense of self-preservation.”

Rey felt a flutter of warmth at the realization that Ben’s love was not an entirely hidden thing. “And the children.”

Something in Solah’s expression shifted, gaze sharpening. “The children.”

“The ones who would have been stormtroopers.” The ones like Finn, like so many of the faceless soldiers who strode past her in the hallways whose names she had not yet learned. The ones whose parents were dead or lost or yearning for their stolen children somewhere in the stars. “Where are they?”

“Not here.” Solah ran a hand through her dark hair, the strands almost feathery in a way Rey had never seen before. “They’re housed on a planet near Kuat. I’m sure that Kylo would be happy to take you.” She paused, then added, “A number of them might still become stormtroopers.”

“But they have a choice, now.” Ben had started the process, and Rey would- maybe- oversee the rest.

_Though,_ she thought with an inward sigh, _I would need a kriffing committee._

Couldn’t do it by herself, after all, and she understood why. 

Stars kriffing damn it.

“They do. The number of toys and sweets that were delivered to the creches last Life Day… the caretakers likely had little peace for weeks.”

“Good.” Rey would ask, later, for Ben to plan some kind of visit. “Will you escort me to the stormtroopers’ living quarters?” A beat. “Please.”

Slowly Solah smiled, revealing a flash of teeth that looked sharper than they ought. “Very well, my lady.” There was a gleam of rueful amusement in her eyes. “Let’s go traipsing into danger.”


	10. crossroads

Plain, sharp-cornered, and immaculately clean. The entire ship was like that, but somehow the stormtroopers’ living quarters were more so. Corners were almost aggressively sharp, walls bare of even the most simple of decorations. Rey had to applaud the cleaning droids and maintenance crew, at least, for being so kriffing good at their respective jobs. 

“Are they allowed to have personal possessions?” she asked while inspecting a room full of identical bunks, feeling rather guilty for intruding on the privacy of others even as the lack of personalization worried her. Even on Jakku, scrabbling for survival, Rey had managed to create some semblance of a home with bits of this and that. 

“Yes.” Ylse- shorter than Rey, with the fluid movements of someone who could dart tirelessly around a larger foe indefinitely, whittling them down to size- ran one gloved finger over a table where dust was probably terrified to fall. “But old habits die hard. If you tore this room apart, you would likely find at least a few surprises tucked away- simple jewelry, small luck tokens. That kind of thing.”

“How many have picked names?”

“Nearly half.” Dehl lounged near the door, keeping an eye on the exit. “That have been registered, at least.”

Rey nodded, thinking of the reports that appeared on her datapad day after day without fail. The First Order thrived on relentless, intricately detailed bureaucracy; of course they would request that the stormtroopers register their new names- and maybe that made it harder, in some respects. If she had to pick a name for herself (had she, once? She had no way of knowing if _Rey_ had come from her parents, or if Plutt had chosen a random syllable, or if her traumatized younger self had seized on the closest approximation to her birth name), how long would she wait before making that choice a known and unchangeable fact? How difficult would it be, as an adult, to know for certain that you were Rey or Ylse or Prehta?

_The children, too- the younger ones would be given names, but the older kids…_

Rey smiled, wondering what they might have chosen for themselves in the rush of new freedoms and expanded horizons. She looked forward to finding out.

Her satisfaction dimmed as the tour continued, disappearing completely when they entered a fourth empty room. “You called ahead and had the deck cleared out, didn’t you?” 

“Yes,” Solah replied matter-of-factly, as if Rey should have anticipated just such an outcome.

“I wanted to talk to them.” One blanket was slightly askew, and the mere sight had guilt biting at her. “How many did you have turned out of their beds? There’s an entire shift that should be mid sleep cycle.”

“I like my head firmly attached to my shoulders, which depends on you not dying from a stray shot.” Solah considered her for a moment, then added wryly, “Unless you would like me to present my neck? I’m fairly certain Kylo has given you authority to execute people, though he might disagree with your decision to off me for my deserved caution.”

Rey pinched the bridge of her nose. She should have expected this. She had even known, on some level, that her presence would be a disruption to the natural order of things- but not quite to this extent. “They hate me now.”

“They’re used to being tipped out of bed at all hours,” Ylse assured her. “Battle, random inspections-”

“Do they get furloughs?”

“That’s still in the works.”

Rey took in several deep breaths, forcing herself to relax. “Show me a common room, then, and let them go back to bed.” She stomped toward the door, determined to learn as much as she could even while being hemmed by well-meaning guards. “Are they allowed to have relationships?”

“Are they allowed to kriff?” Solah replied dryly. “Yeah, I think that happens sometimes.”

“What about friendships?”

“That happens, too.”

Which lined up with what little Finn had said about his time as a soldier, so how much had their lives really changed? 

“They should be allowed to marry,” she muttered as she swept past Dehl into the hall. Empty. “They should be allowed to have families.”

“We’ve had a few leave to do just that,” Olen told her, matching her pace as the others arranged themselves ahead and behind. “They’re allowed to resign, now. Kylo sends them off with wages earned and some kind of bonus; gives them a place in a First Order garrison planet-side if they want it. The Council fussed at the expense, but morale has improved.”

“Do any of you want to leave?”

There was a bubble of heavy silence at her question, and one by one they shook their heads. “We’ve been with him too long,” Ylse said quietly from behind her. “He’s our brother, no matter how…”

When she trailed off, Solah picked up with a brisk explanation. “Snoke played us off each other. We were a band of warriors, and we were each others’ competition. Even Kylo was always aware that his star might fall and someone else could rise.”

“And?” Rey asked softly. 

“And when you live in that kind of environment, you either develop an intense hatred for your squad or an intense loyalty.” Solah shrugged. “And we chose the latter. We’ll stay, until we die or until his heir is old enough to pick their own knights.”

“Which doesn’t mean we can’t have a life,” Ylse said lightly. “I wouldn’t mind a nice long vacation, myself. I may even one day woo and wed that pretty mechanic from level five, the one with her hair in braids.”

“The one who blushes every time you swagger past?” Dehl looked over his shoulder, a teasing smile on his face. “The first time she saw you without a mask she nearly swallowed her tongue.”

“I am startlingly attractive.”

“We were always loyal,” Olen told Rey quietly as the others continued to banter. “Now we’re also friends. I’ll stay, for that alone.”

“And do you mind, having me here?” she asked in an equally low tone. These were deep attachments, and ones that had existed for far longer than she and Ben had known each other. 

“We know why our circumstances changed.” He slid her a glance. “Your reputation is well-deserved, but taking out Snoke and all his guards by yourself, and surviving? Unlikely. You _and_ Kylo, on the other hand- very possible.”

She said nothing, unsure if he were attempting to lead her into a trap. 

“Not that the Resistance would say anything,” he said when the silence stretched on. “Their Jedi destroying a despot with only a lightsaber and justifiable fury is excellent PR for them; if anyone doubted you they would never say so aloud. And no one will say so here, not when it would throw Kylo’s rule under a shadow.”

Had anyone doubted her? Leia, perhaps, who had often watched Rey with a considering air, as if some part of her recognized a trace of Ben lingering in Rey’s own presence. 

_Maybe it’s the same with Ben. Maybe people who know him well sense a bit of me, now, wherever he goes._

She liked the idea. It made her want to burrow into his arms and nip at his neck, leaving some outward sign for those who weren’t quite so perceptive. 

Empty bunks, empty halls, empty common rooms. The tour left Rey feeling frustrated and thoughtful and missing Ben all at once; a complex and annoying state of emotions. She would arrange for a second, much less disruptive visit- and if the stormtroopers wanted anything, she would do her best to acquire it. Pillows, books and vids, plants… or would they want privacy? There were six bunks to each small room, and the common areas were all open, brightly-lit spaces. 

Solah waited until they were in the elevator to offer, “Would you like to smack something with a stick, for a while?”

“Yes,” Rey replied immediately, surprising a laugh from Ylse. “Is it that obvious?”

“You have the look. Come on,” Solah said, leaving the elevator and immediately turning down a right-hand hall. “We’ll all get some sparring in. You might even land a few blows.”

“First you promise me danger; now you taunt me.”

“Again, I like being alive.” Solah shot her a glance, smiling. “Is it working?”

By the end of the hour, Rey landed three blows before she absolutely had to rest: two on Olen, and one on Ylse. 

Petty spite, it seemed, was almost as effective a motivator as the need to survive.

\- - -

“Have you considered putting her aside?”

Ben looked up from the report he had been reading (one that already had him in a foul mood; faulty water purifiers were no light matter), carefully keeping his mask in place. “Explain.”

The growl was allowed, he decided after the fact, forgiving himself the slip. The rumbled undertone was a warning, not a weakness. 

Cass met his gaze unflinchingly from her seat across the table. “It’s a reasonable question. An assassination attempt not even one week in-”

“I dealt with two, my first week in power,” he reminded her with as much outward calm as he could muster.

“You were establishing your rule; transitional periods are often tumultuous,” she replied immediately. “Your new consort, on the other hand- the galaxy as a whole may be fascinated by the idea of the Supreme Leader and the last Jedi entangled in a deathless romance, but politically the match is a divisive one.”

“First,” Ben began, putting down his datapad before he could crack the edges, “Rey is my guest, not my consort, and she is not someone that I could casually _put aside._ Second-”

“She’s sleeping in your quarters.”

He liked Cass. He appreciated her frankness and the way she was willing to say things to him others wouldn’t dare mention, and he wouldn’t snap or snarl now, even if she were prodding at a particularly sensitive spot. “Hers are currently uninhabitable.”

“I wasn’t aware that the fleet was filled to such capacity, that we would be unable to find a spare berth for one woman.”

Ben leaned in, slightly, dropping his voice to a murmur. “What confession are you trying to pry from me, Eddor?”

She blinked, looking a little wary, and retreated to a more formal mode of speaking. “My lord?”

“Let me make one matter clear- to you, and to the other Council members, because I want you to share this information.” They were alone in the room, but he kept his voice pitched low. “I will have no one _but_ Rey. Should she decide to leave- or should someone succeed in cutting her life short- I will rule alone, no matter how many advantageous matches you dangle in front of me. Do you understand?”

Her expression shifted, hinting at the muted triumph of someone whose suspicions were finally confirmed. When she spoke again the veil of formality was gone, leaving in its place her usual blunt manner. “I understand that you’re in love.” 

“Yes.” He refused to lie or prevaricate on that particular matter. Solah hadn’t been wrong to caution him on wearing his feelings so openly, but- Ben knew instinctively- a lifetime of being cool and polite with Rey in public would do neither of them any good. “I won’t have her hurt, or overlooked, or shunted aside.”

Cass dipped her head in a slow nod. “I’ll let the others know.” She considered him for a long moment. “There will be grumbling from some allies over this choice, once they realize your attachment is no fleeting thing.”

“Some allies have a propensity for grumbling.” He stood, moving toward the viewport which took up most of one wall and displayed an endless sea of stars as well as a sizable portion of the fleet. The _Steadfast_ was easily visible, and he could feel the pulse of Rey’s presence from where he stood. She was calm, and safe. “Let them.”

There was a rustle as Cass joined him, arms crossed over her chest. “She’s not yet agreed to stay?”

His silence was answer enough. “Well,” she said quietly, “I hope she does.”

He kept his tone bland, almost emotionless. “Do you?”

“Everyone has an agenda, whether they admit it or not, and it only took that one meeting for me to discover hers. She’ll never be swayed by riches or the fools who blather about trickle-down economics. She’s going to feed and house and care for those who have the least, and I suspect that she’ll flatten anyone who stands in her way.” Cass glanced toward him, one brow raised. “She won’t be satisfied with anything less than a truly equal partnership.”

He allowed one corner of his mouth to quirk upward. “I understood that from day one, when she put this scar on my face.”

She chuckled, looking as if she might be about to make some dry joke, but was forestalled by the door sliding open behind them. Hux entered at a brisk pace, wearing an expression of irritation that did not match the gleam of excitement in his eyes. “The Resistance,” he said with a faint sneer, skipping over any attempt at a greeting or indication of deference, “has broken their silence.”

“In what way?” Cass asked, all hints of humor disappearing from her face. She drew herself up to her full height (her sheer presence making up for a lack of inches), focusing on Hux in a way that made him visibly falter. 

“By releasing a statement on every comm channel they were able to access.” He regained his composure, looking even more sour in the wake of its temporary loss. “They want their Jedi back.”

“I’m sure they do,” Ben bit out, and immediately regretted giving Hux any kind of indication of his emotional state. “What of it?”

Hux’s expression didn’t change, but Ben sensed his sly pleasure nonetheless. He was enjoying himself, the kriffing bastard, and the temptation to rip into his mind and pry out every one of his secrets was so strong that Ben could almost _taste_ it, coppery like blood. 

_One day he’s going to slip_, he reminded himself. _One day I’ll have all the proof I need, and I’ll be able to lock him away without being viewed as a monster with no impulse control._

People still remembered his fits of rage. He could see that in the way some crew members cowered or stuttered out answers to his questions, in the stiff gait of technicians and janitors as they scurried past with lowered eyes. His own image was still very much in the process of being rehabilitated; the veneer of benevolent ruler just that.

“They’re worried about her.” There was the barest hint of smug satisfaction in the set of Hux’s mouth- not a smile, but a distant cousin to one. “Delicate, impressionable girl that she is.”

And that- that wild, ridiculous statement used to describe _Rey,_ of all people- made Ben pause. His stillness lasted only a moment, barely long enough for Hux to blink, and then he was moving forward too quickly for the other man to step out of his reach. “Show me,” Ben demanded grimly, clamping a hand around Hux’s upper arm. “_Now._”

\- - -

The turmoil of Ben’s thoughts preceded him through the door, giving Rey a few extra seconds to prepare herself for bad news. 

_There would be a lot of bad news,_ she mused from her nest of blankets on the couch, setting aside her datapad (and with it, the novel she had been reading for nothing more than pleasure). _And small victories, and-_

The look on his face- pale and drawn, and full of restrained fury- made her inward spiel fizzle away. “Ben?”

He didn’t answer immediately; instead he considered her as the door slid shut behind him, the set of his shoulders easing a little. “You look comfortable.”

As if that were as important- more important, even- than whatever he had to say. “I am.” Rey patted the space beside her. “Sit with me?”

He settled on the edge of the couch. “The Resistance released a statement.”

_Well,_ she thought when the shiver of shock had passed. _Why are you surprised? They like their stirring speeches; you’ve been mentioned in them before._

Always positively, and as a draw to potential allies. It made sense that with the garden holo circulating so widely they would have to say _something_ about her apparent defection. 

“Did they?” Rey twisted a fold of the blanket between her fingers, trying to stay calm. She had been so pleased with herself, after her afternoon spar; so proud that she had managed to earn actual looks of respect from other warriors on the mats, but fresh uncertainty had her heart racing as familiar thoughts tumbling through her mind. 

_I’m not enough. I’m not worth the trouble. I’m-_

His jaw tightened. “Don’t think such things.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I-”

Ben hesitated. “I know,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have snapped.” He shifted closer, expression apologetic. “The bond flows like water, when we’re this close,” he murmured. “Have you noticed?”

“Yes.” A sense of soothing warmth emanated from him, smoothing out her quick breaths. It wasn’t an attempt to calm her against her will- she could snap the bond closed in an instant, if she wanted- but a genuine offer of aid. Rey closed her eyes, allowing him to ease the panic that tightened her chest. Vulnerability didn’t feel like weakness, with Ben, but like a well-earned rest… and it was nice, to feel how deeply he cared. Nice to be reminded that she mattered. 

“You do.” He captured one of her hands, brushing a kiss over her fingers. “And you are so much more than merely _enough._”

To him, she was. Rey took in a deep breath, opening her eyes. “What did they have to say?”

“Easier to show you, I think.”

The holovid was simply set: just Poe with a serious expression (“He has the kind of charisma that draws others in,” Rey remembered someone saying once, when new recruits arrived asking for him by name), hunched toward the camera as if sharing a confession. “We need your help,” he began, eyes shadowed. “We’re searching for someone in desperate need of rescue.”

Poe seemed to stare straight into her eyes, despite the separation of time and distance. “Don’t worry, Rey- we’re going to save you.”

Ben barely kept hold of the datapad when Rey scrambled to her feet with a burst of indignation, the blankets falling to a heap on the floor. Swearing under her breath, she paced. 

“-an easily-swayed girl, one so sheltered that-”

How dare they. How _dare_ they diminish her even further after stripping her down to practically nothing, how dare-

“I’m going to kill him,” she snarled, feeling Ben’s eyes on her as she stalked from one end of the room to another. “I’m going to- to-”

“-under the thumb of a man who-”

She wanted to kick, and tear the paneling from the walls, and pummel something until she wept from fatigue. “I’m not a _child._”

“You’re not,” Ben agreed gravely.

“And I’ve never been sheltered in my kriffing life. I did everything they asked. I barely slept, I barely ate, I was only there because-”

“Rey-”

“_-because I thought I didn’t have anywhere else to go._” She backed into a corner, pressing herself against the solid join of walls. “I was wrong, but-”

“Rey-”

“But I thought they wanted me as- as me.” The words spilled out even as her hands clenched. “Not a Jedi. Just… just Rey.”

Ben hadn’t moved an inch, likely because he realized she couldn’t yet take being crowded. “I want Rey,” he told her softly, leaning toward her over the couch back. “Come sit with me, sweetheart.”

“And talking like you’re some kind of kriffing manipulative genius, when-”

“When I’d kneel at your feet?”

Rey stopped, at that, staring at him. 

Because he would, if she asked. He’d drop to his knees in front of her, waiting for an order, and she knew that fact as intimately as she knew that she didn’t want him in that way. She wanted the man who stood beside her, secure in his own power, with his hand at her back and head inclined to catch a whispered word. She wanted the man who watched her eat a full meal and then slid something sweet her way. She wanted the man who kissed like she were water in the middle of the desert, hands tight at her waist. A partner, rather than a subordinate. 

She needed that partner now. “What do we do?” 

Ben hesitated, but only briefly. “Put you on display.”

Even with an assassin on the loose, even with her confidence muddled. Not Rey’s preference, but she understood the logic. “All right.”

“With me.” He grimaced. “And without me.”

“So that everyone knows you aren’t using Sith mind tricks?” Rey took a step forward, and then another, leaving her corner behind. “No one seems to wonder if I’m using Jedi mind tricks on you.” A sardonic smile twisted her mouth. “Too much of an easily-swayed girl to do so, I guess.”

“That garden planet is still an option.” The offer was reluctant, and honest, and soft-spoken, but Ben was often soft-spoken, with her. She wondered again who he would have been, left in peace- a smuggler like Han, a politician like Leia, a quiet, brilliant scholar- but those lives would never be, and it was useless to dwell on them. 

_Putting on public appearances would also be useless, if I intend to leave,_ she thought. _Bad enough to disappear now, but after they parade me around? Impossible. It would shatter all of Ben’s efforts, it would set off an uproar._

It would hurt the man who waited for her answer, and who had such hopes to better the galaxy as a whole. 

“Ben?” 

It wasn’t a difficult choice to make, surprisingly enough. She closed the gap between them, knowingly leaving behind the easiest, calmest path available to her. Taking his outstretched hand, Rey gave herself one last chance to reconsider. Finding only stubborn, undiminished certainty, she fixed him with her most determined look. “I never,” she told him firmly, “want to hear you make that offer again.”

It took him an astonishingly long time to process the implications of that statement- so long, in fact, that she began to feel as if she had missed some unspoken cue on his part, like maybe he was _looking_ to dump her on the shore of some fierce sea and fly away. 

And then his fingers tightened as he stood, head bent toward hers. “No?” He spoke in a murmur, one alight with anticipatory hope. “Why not?”

“You know why.” Rey grabbed his tunic with her free hand, holding him in place even though he showed no inclination to move away. “We belong to each other- and we’re _both_ going to prove them wrong.”

The first kiss he gave her, after those words, was entirely the opposite of fervent: it was slow and borderline teasing, sending a shiver through her with the way he bit gently at her lower lip. She could feel his awe and surprise through the bond, feel the curve of his mouth against hers as he smiled, and it was all so sweet and lovely that her grip on him loosened as she swayed closer.

The second was ravenous, and it blotted out every thought in her head other than _mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear Leia will show up soon, and that she has Opinions on how this has all been handled.


	11. the game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all doing well, out there. Take care of yourselves, friends.

_Mine._

Ben was slow to realize that the thought was not his own, but Rey’s, zipping through the bond as clearly as if she had spoken directly into his ear. The claim had the air of possession, of a breathless snarl, and it settled in his mind and heart and hands before he really understood its origin- but Rey, with an arm around his neck and a hand in his hair and her knees clamped around his hips (when had they settled on the couch?) seemed to appreciate his initiative. 

Even if that meant his hand on her ass, which- Ben thought dazedly when the kiss broke and Rey stared down at him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks- was probably the perfect example of what a humanoid ass should be. 

“You’re staying?”

She licked her kiss-swollen lips, sounding a little breathless when she replied. “That’s what I said, Ben.”

“But not in those words.” 

Her grip on him gentled, the hand in his hair slipping down to trace the line of his scar. “I’m staying with you.” Her thumb brushed over his lower lip, then up to touch the divot above his mouth. “I don’t think I ever really intended to leave,” she confessed quietly. “Even if that would be easier.”

“No?”

“It was hard enough, walking away from you in the throne room.” Her hand dropped to his shoulder, toying with the buttons that held his collar closed. “I’m still scared, Ben. Not of you, but of not being what you need- and I’m selfish enough to hold onto you anyway.” She slipped one button free, tone shifting a little dry. “And now you’re going to tell me that I’m exactly what you need.”

“You are.” He made to move his hand up her back, but stopped when she glared at him. “Do you want me to keep my hand there, sweetheart?”

A new wash of color filled her cheeks at his teasing murmur. “It’s not like we’re in public.”

“No.”

“It’s a little ridiculous, how much of my ass your hand can cover.” She slipped a second button free, fingertips dipping under the cloth to touch sensitive skin. “Though you could put that hand somewhere else.”

When he didn’t immediately reply (_don’t make assumptions, don’t-_) she reached back, grabbing his hand and pulling it to her front. “Here.” Rey looked a blend of stubborn and reckless and shy as she curved his hand over one breast. “You can touch me here.”

More than a little awed, he stared at the contrast of his pale skin against the dark green of her top, at the way her breast fit so sweetly in his palm. 

“Too small?”

Ben barely heard her question. She wasn’t wearing any kind of binding, her nipple hard through the soft cloth. When he shifted his hand, thumb circling tentatively around the peak, she shivered and clutched at his shoulders. 

“Too small?” she asked again, voice uneven. 

He jerked his gaze away from her chest, licking dry lips. “I, uh-”

Ben took in a breath, thumb still moving in a lazy circle. “I might need to see them uncovered to really tell.”

She snorted, grabbing a throw pillow and hitting him on the side of the head with it. “_Nerfherder._ And- and harder. Please.”

He liked how breathy she sounded, even when throwing a very mild curse in his direction and accosting him with a pillow. He hadn’t even _had_ throw pillows until a day or two before. Stopping his thumb, he asked, “Where’s the line, Rey?”

For a long moment she was quiet, color fading from her cheeks. “Maybe I’m not ready for everything.” In his mind he saw a flash of gold fabric and understood that, somehow, it was part and parcel with what she was saying. “But I like this,” she added with certainty, covering his hand with hers. “I like kissing you. And sharing a bed with you.”

“I’m not in a rush.” He wouldn’t break or bruise her trust, and- if he were honest with himself- _he_ wasn’t ready. Another truth, and one she needed to hear. “I don’t have any experience, Rey. I’ve never- I’ve never felt safe enough to trust another person like that. I’m worried I’ll disappoint you.”

_I’m worried I’ll hurt you._

Her response was a firm, “We’ll learn together, then. Besides-” 

She kissed him before finishing her thought, nipping at his lower lip. “We’re at our best, together.”

\- - -

“Are you going to marry me?” 

It was dark in their bedroom. Rey nuzzled her nose against the nape of his neck, drowsy and content. Her choice had been made, her path set, and it was a _relief._ “Yes,” she said, yawning, and patted his bare chest. She could do that, now, whenever she liked. “Your people will want a wedding.”

“Do _you_ want a wedding?”

He wanted one, that much was clear, and not because it would likely be an extravagant show of power and wealth. “I want you.” She hitched a knee over his hip, closing her eyes. She would suffer through the pageantry, for him. “I don’t know anything about weddings, really,” Rey continued sleepily, “but I do know about high-priced hauls. I have to drag you in for portions before someone else steals you.”

Ben laughed, a burst of surprise shooting through the bond. “Do you?”

“Uh-huh.” She dragged her fingers lazily over his belly button, smiling when he squirmed. “Best haul I’ve ever found.”

His thoughts were all warmth and softness, for her. “Rey?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never been so pleased to be compared to scrap.”

She snuggled closer, not even attempting to veil her amusement at his words. “Like I said,” she murmured. “Best haul.”

\- - -

Rey surfaced from sleep with cloudy, happy memories of the night before, and opened her eyes to a burgeoning storm. 

“Are you with me, sweetheart?” Ben asked quietly, setting a cup of caf and cream on the bedside table and a datapad on her lap. She sat up and looked at the device in sleepy incomprehension, unsure where, exactly, they were in the sleep cycle, but sensing that it was much earlier than he had woken her in recent memory. He was already dressed, his thoughts tumultuous and a tic in his jaw. “I need you, Rey.” 

“Is it morning?”

“Morning enough.” He sounded tired, and intensely apologetic. “I have to take care of a few things, but I need you to see this first… and I need you with me, later.” 

She turned her attention to the datapad, feeling her stomach drop as a familiar moment from a far different perspective played across the screen: Ben walking down a Cloud City hallway, her blanket-bundled form clutched in his arms. What could be seen of her face was thin and pale and exhausted, and Ben- Ben wore the harshest variant of the Kylo Ren mask she had yet seen, in that handful of seconds, when all she remembered from the walk was his worry seeping through the bond and how relieved she had felt to finally, finally have some measure of safety. 

“The Resistance, I’m guessing?” The last vestiges of sleep slipped away. “It certainly bolsters their message.” 

“It does. It’s on every media feed, with commentary.” He cupped her cheek in one hand, gently coaxing her gaze toward him. “If you aren’t ready to appear publicly-”

“I have to be.” Even with her belly sour, even with anger hot in her mind. “What are we going to do?”

There was a brief pause as he closed his eyes, his end of the bond practically radiating _I’m sorry_ and _I love you,_ both emotions warm and guilty. “We have to attend a party.”

Rey snorted a humorless laugh. “You make it sound like an execution.”

“Someone _did_ try to poison me at the last gala I attended, so…”

Ben gave her a small, rueful smile as his voice trailed off, meeting her gaze once more. “We’re several hours from Bar’leth, and a prominent ally is hosting an event there, tonight. I wasn’t planning on attending, but putting in an appearance seems a good idea, now… especially given the number of notorious gossips on the invitation list.”

“Does this ally have a marriageable heir who’ll hate me at first sight?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Rey looked back down at the looping capture of herself at her weakest, at the harsh expression on Ben’s face that she knew to be a lie. “So we avoid the food and the wine, and I prove that I can walk under my own power without clutching at your sleeve.”

“Essentially.” He tucked her tangled hair back, fingertips grazing over the curve of her ear. “Let them see who you are.” 

She set aside the datapad with a roll of her eyes, looking back up at him. “A desert scavenger with no table manners?”

“My equal and partner, who deserves their respect. Besides,” Ben added dryly, “they need to know that you aren’t some puppet I’m controlling with mind tricks.” One corner of his mouth quirked up. “As ridiculous as the idea sounds.” 

“Fine,” Rey muttered, her mouth dry and throat aching, but found herself smiling nonetheless. “I’m going to need Prehta,” she continued, more to herself than to Ben. “She’ll know what I should wear.”

“After you eat.” Ben leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. “And-”

The change in his emotional state was subtle, but odd enough to catch her attention: guilt, a tinge of embarrassed desire, and somehow the image of his fingers twining plaits out of tough grass. “May I arrange your hair?”

She very nearly laughed out of shock. It was only the remembrance of Leia- Leia, and something she had once mentioned offhandedly about mourning braids- that stayed Rey’s tongue. “You’ll have to fight Prehta for the honor,” she said instead, and was pleased to see a slow smile spread over his face. 

“I might come out ahead, in that battle. Maybe.” 

“Maybe.” She leaned back against her pillows, enjoying what might be their one quiet moment for the day. Ben appeared to be in no rush to leave, despite his words; he kept his seat beside her, one hand draped over the lump of her knee under the blankets. “I love you, you know.” 

When he stiffened, gaze sharpening, she rubbed a fold of the sheet between two fingers. “I would let you eat off my plate, if we were rationing.”

“Rey-”

His voice was tight and raw, expression a little aghast, and she hurriedly spoke right over him. “You would need more food than me anyway, to survive; it’s only practical.” And the idea of watching him waste away made her chest tighten. It was obscene, the thought of Ben going to bed hungry. 

He half-laughed, the sound unsteady, and reached forward to cup her face in both hands. “Sweetheart.”

She had the sense that the endearment wasn’t all that he wanted to say, but that it was all he _could_ say, the two syllables imbued with so much feeling that even without the bond she would have been able to guess at the depth of his emotions. “Ben.”

One moment he was all awed love and startled comprehension, the next he looked at her with heat and promise. “Do you know what it means, for me to braid your hair?” he asked in a low tone, moving one of his hands to curve around the back of her neck. 

Her “Not really” sounded just as breathless as she felt. 

“On Alderaan, it was an act of true intimacy… particularly if the same person took your hair down, afterward.” His ardor gentled, eyes looking into hers with the air of someone seeking permission. “I hope you’ll let me do that, too.” 

_Oh,_ she thought, sudden realization striking even as she surged forward and slanted her mouth over his.

_I have to find Leia._

\- - -

“Oh, that was bantha shit level foolishness,” Prehta said immediately when Rey brought up the holovid. She rolled her eyes, then turned to consider Rey’s half of the closet. “You are- forgive me- the least delicate person I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you,” Rey replied, settling with crossed legs at the end of the bed. Her hair lay damp against her shoulders, every bit of skin freshly scrubbed. “Is that what everyone else thinks, on board?”

Prehta hesitated.

“I’m not going to get mad at _you,_” Rey said strained patience. “I just need to know.”

“There are some- some,” Prehta stressed, turning with several items draped over one arm, “who… well. Think you’re just here for other reasons.” She fiddled with a sleeve hem. “Long con revenge kind of reasons, or tension relieving ones.”

Rey cursed silently as her mind, without prompting, reminded her how it had felt to have Ben’s hands on new, far more sensitive places. “Neither of those reasons are why I’m here.”

“They’ll figure that out, eventually.” She presented the proposed outfit for Rey’s consideration: a black dress and loose-sleeved black surcoat, the latter embroidered in gold. “I’m trying to strike the right balance between soft and hard,” she explained as Rey fingered the material of the dress. “Neither a fainting maiden nor a military commander- though maybe you would like some color?” She glanced over her shoulder, frowning a little. “We could make that work, though you need to coordinate with his attire. Which is all black,” she added in a mutter, sounding as if the constraint mildly offended her.

“No.” Rey traced one budding flower decisively, quirking her mouth in a half-smile. It looked, she thought, a little like Queen’s Heart. “They expect to see me in black, so let’s give them what they want.” 

Prehta blinked at her firm tone, clearly caught a little off-guard by her immediate acquiescence. “All right. You’re going to need to wear makeup, for this, and-”

She grinned, briefly, at Rey’s annoyed frown.

“-and we have to cover up the bruises on your neck.” 

Rey felt her cheeks heat, but gave no other indication of embarrassment. “He’s fond,” she said blandly, surprising a snort from Prehta. “He also intends to braid my hair after you’re done, so…”

“Ah.” Prehta’s eyes widened. “This I have to see.”

\- - -

Stepping back into his own quarters after an unexpected and far too long meeting- one which certain of his advisors were lucky to have survived, after having the temerity to suggest taking _a less contentious bride, my lord_\- barely made a dent in Ben’s ill-humor.

Hearing Rey’s laugh did, though not enough for him to usher her inexplicably disappointed stylist out of the bedroom with more than a bare modicum of politeness. 

“She wanted to watch you work,” Rey explained, sitting on the bed in a pool of black skirts. “Who made you mad?”

“Everyone, and I’m sorry to disappoint your Prehta,” he replied, still standing halfway between the door and the bed, caught by the sight of her. Her neckline dipped distractingly low, framing a necklace of Sormahil fire gems, and her arms- when had he last seen her bare arms? had he ever?- were covered with scars, both faded and new. The spill of black and gold over a nearby chair indicated that those marks would be hidden away from prying eyes, before they left.

_I want to map her._ It would be so much more pleasant to cancel their plans and settle beside her on the bed, to take her in his arms and- if she allowed- nuzzle the curves of her breasts and kiss every old injury. So much safer to stay where they were, despite the need to confront rumors head-on. “You still have the scar from the throne room,” he said instead, giving the oddly-shaped scar a second look when he realized his gaze had lingered too long on her chest. 

She raised a brow, amused by either his fascination with her breasts or his words or perhaps the way he was side-stepping an explanation. “You still have the scar from Starkiller,” she pointed out. “And you don’t have the excuse of a bacta shortage.”

“I like the reminder.” He moved closer, touching her upper arm lightly- and spotted, near her elbow, a livid bruise. “May I inquire?”

“I earned that sparring with Ylse, yesterday.” Rey gave him a sharp smile. “Right before I dumped her on her ass.”

And Ylse never- _never_\- gave someone a win. “My warrior.” He bent, kissing the scar with a casual, “You have access to that bacta, now.”

“I know- but maybe I like the reminder, too.” She caught his hand. “Do you want to talk about whatever has you upset?”

“A few of my advisors aired inadvisable opinions.”

“About me?” She lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug, though he felt the sting of her irritation. “Do they still have their heads?”

“I was very restrained.” 

“I’m sure you were. So.” He could almost see the moment she put that knowledge aside to focus on the present. “My hair.”

Her hair. Ben found himself regretting his offer, with the moment at hand- not because he had no desire to share this particular tradition with her, but because he doubted his own skills. It had been years since he had last practiced braiding, and even longer since he had done so on a sentient being. 

After pulling off his boots he settled behind her on the bed, comb and brush and pins piled beside. “I used to do this for my mother,” he admitted quietly, reaching for the brush. “She… she made time, for me. For this. Most days.”

(“This is an art,” his mother had said, her fingers deftly plaiting a lock of his hair. “A means of conveying messages, an act of devotion, an intimate tradition older than Alderaanian written history.”

“What does this one mean?”

Her gaze had sharpened, seeing him beyond the history between her fingertips, and she had smiled. “Beloved child.”) 

“I thought so.” No censure in Rey’s voice, no attempt at guilt; just careful curiosity. “That feels nice,” she added with a soft sigh as he drew the brush through her hair. “I hope tonight goes well. I hate feeling like… like some marker on a dejarik board, rather than the player.”

“Anyone who sees you as a marker has no idea who they are dealing with.” He began carefully weaving the soft, gleaming strands over and under, giving up on his first attempt when muscle memory was slow to rise to the fore. Tension wouldn’t stay even, long wisps of hair refused to tuck neatly, yet this had once been so _easy._

She laughed a little, saying in a wry tone, “Not that I’m very good at playing dejarik.”

“Tonight will be the equivalent of upending the entire game, so-”

To Ben’s dismay, his second attempt looked even worse. 

“-so I needn’t worry?” she finished, amused, and reached back to pat his knee. “Fine.”

Braid after braid after braid failed. “I’m kriffing this up,” Ben finally muttered, frustrated, hands falling to his lap. Maybe that was half the trouble, right there- his hands had grown since he last practiced. What he remembered as deft, swift motions were now fumbling, his fingers refusing to move correctly. 

“We have a lot of time,” Rey said softly in the ensuing quiet. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to practice.”

And that was true, and a relief, but-

_But I feel a little like a failure._ He glumly plucked a stray pin from her hair, feeling as if some luck were lost with his inability to perform this one simple act. As if, in some odd way, having _dearest_ and _intended_ woven into Rey’s hair would have given her an extra measure of safety.

“Ben.” She shifted so that they were face to face, grabbing one of his hands. “Every night. You can practice every night- and maybe you could teach me.” Her fingers stroked gently over his palm. “I’d like to braid your hair.”

His throat tightened. Not trusting his own voice, he nodded his reply. 

“Good.” Rey leaned in, kissing him firmly. “Now go fetch Prehta,” she said after, touching him lightly on his scarred cheek. “I have people to scandalize.”

Prehta popped up from the couch the moment he left the bedroom, her gaze flying- oddly- to his mouth. “My skills aren’t yet at the level Rey deserves,” Ben told her, trying to keep his voice even. “She needs your assistance with her hair.”

“Of course.” Her eyes briefly met his, and then she was digging a handkerchief out of her bag and extending it toward him. “If I may,” she said, sounding as awkward as he felt. “Your mouth, my lord.”

Understanding came quick, and he lifted the cloth to rub away the dark red tint left by Rey’s lip-paint. “Thank you. She’s…”

“Fond?” she replied diplomatically, sounding as if a joke lurked in that single word. “Of course. And I’ll tend to her now.”

Normally, Ben would care if someone were laughing at him, even silently. 

Staring down at the smears left on the bright white cloth, all he could think was of Rey’s promise of time. 

\- - -

Night had fallen, by the time they arrived, yet from the air the spread of the palatial estate was easily identifiable by the gleaming lights. “A little excessive,” Rey murmured in Ben’s ear, pushing down her uneasiness. “All that power, lighting up areas no one will see.”

“The Aphrasts aren’t exactly known for their modesty,” he replied quietly. “You have your saber?”

“That’s the third time you’ve asked that question.” She poked his side at the first sign of a frown. “It’s still at my hip, Ben. I’ll use it if I have to.”

“Good.” He was just as uneasy as she was, but clearly trying his best to be calm and steady for her sake. “Solah and Ylse will shadow you. Let them test anything before you accept it, even a napkin.”

“Has there been a spate of napkin poisonings?”

“Not yet,” he said darkly, and she bit back a smile. “I love you.”

“I know.” Rey leaned into him, satisfied when she felt his mood mellow, somewhat. “We’re going to upend the game, Ben,” she reminded him as the ship landed and their guards made one last check of weapons and armor. “Aren’t we?”

“Yes.” Ben looked down at her, eyes soft. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m going to be, I think.” She stood, smoothing her hands over her skirts. “I want to visit the creches, sometime soon. With you, if possible.”

“Of course.” 

“Have you ever visited them before?”

“A few times.” He took her arm, matching Rey’s stride as they made their way toward the exit. “It’s… odd… talking to the older children. The last time I was there they very much reacted to me like miniature Stormtroopers; I couldn’t get them to relax.”

“Time and exposure.” She caught her first whiff of outside air, warm and perfumed by some unknown flower; saw the gardens unfold around her as they descended to the ground. “And- and this is very nice.”

_Overwhelming_ would have been a better word, or perhaps _offensively opulent._ Even from where they stood she could see the gilded gleam of the interior through windows and open doors, and below their feet the stone of the landing pad itself glittered in the spill of ship and lamplight. 

“Too nice to stay?” he asked, and she knew without looking that he was not only wearing his Kylo Ren mask- not a surprise- but would immediately turn and offend their waiting hosts if she wanted to leave. 

She watched several nearby servants as they guided other new arrivals toward the main doors, their gazes averted from everyone in a way that sparked her temper. “No,” she decided, back straightening. “Not at all.”

Rey, after all, had a sudden number of questions that _would_ be answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's dress.](https://pin.it/7K1rLKZ)
> 
> The [pinterest board of fashion](https://www.pinterest.com/lgrimm7931/take-this-weight/) I've compiled for this fic. 


	12. the social whirl

Ben had never been to a party that could even remotely be considered _enjoyable._ The Senate galas he had attended as a boy had been dull and had filled him with low-key dread that he might somehow be seen as misbehaving- and hiding in a corner, away from those adults who loved to loudly comment on the size of his ears and his gangly limbs counted as misbehaving. _Be polite_ had been his mother’s constant refrain, and his protests that no one _else_ followed that rule had only earned him commiserating claps on the back from his father and patient stares from his mother. As an adult, he had attended few social gatherings at all before his ascent to the throne, and those he had attended during Snoke’s rule had been as a living, masked threat rather than as an actual guest. 

This party showed somewhat more promise, with Rey at his side. 

_But,_ he thought, _if Lady Aphrast continues with that barely-veiled sneer, there may yet be bloodshed._

“She’s charming, my lord.” A lesser man would have believed her. “You could practically tuck her in your pocket.”

The flash of Rey’s temper outstripped his own, and her tongue flew faster. “I’d stab him in the kidney if he tried.” 

“Would you?” he asked, tone warm enough to inspire a disbelieving blink from Lady Aphrast. Perhaps he had let a little too much of Ben slip through, at that moment- but he had already vowed to himself that he wouldn’t treat Rey coldly in public, so that was all to the good. 

“You have two,” Rey replied archly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “And an excellent medical staff.”

A bubble of silence surrounded them, the nearest guests having fallen quiet to catch the exchange. A nice start, Ben judged, to eradicating the rumors. “If you decide to collect one as a wedding present, let me know.” He leveled a long look on their hostess. “I look forward to showing my intended your lovely home.”

_That I will never sleep in, despite your efforts to have me planted in your daughter’s bed._

Interesting, how Lady Aphrast seemed to understand _exactly_ what he was thinking, in that moment. It was enough to make him wonder if she had a touch of Force sensitivity. 

“You’re smirking,” Rey murmured as they strolled into the adjoining ballroom, which was filled with mingling, sharp-eyed guests and abundant displays of exotic flora.

“I am not.” 

“You are,” Solah muttered, stepping past them both to take lead. “I think the sight has soured the wine of at least a few.”

Ben scanned the room for foes (many) and friends (few), carefully keeping his mask in place. A difficult task, with Rey quietly snickering beside him. “I do live for your compliments, Solah.” 

_There,_ he thought, gaze landing on an elderly Cerean standing not too far off. “Rey,” he began, drawing her gently away from the brightly-hued carnivorous plants she was examining. “I would like to introduce you to Ambassador Tarr Mon. Tarr, my intended, Rey.”

“The lady who has the entire galaxy abuzz.” Tarr- taller than Ben, even with his back beginning to hunch with age- hardly seemed to lean on his cane as he regarded Rey calmly, a hint of humor in his eyes. Brilliant, honest, gentle- and, Ben suspected, highly Force sensitive- Tarr had somehow survived Snoke’s reign relatively unscathed. “You do not look likely to wilt, Lady Rey.”

“No.” She didn’t take her eyes off of Tarr, but Ben could sense a kind of wordless question being pushed his own way: _trust?_ His silent affirmative in response resulted in a small smile and a friendlier, “I was ill, but no longer- and just Rey, please.”

“It seems the concerns of many are misplaced- though I suspected as much, when certain people painted Kylo as a holodrama villain.” There was a warmth to Tarr’s voice as he shifted to the more informal mode of speech he typically used with Ben. “Though you must admit he dresses the part.”

“I like the black.” Rey smiled up at them both in turn, a mischievous tilt to her lips. “Though my stylist would love if he introduced a little more color into his wardrobe.”

Ben lifted a brow, hiding his own amusement at the idea. “Once again, I apologize for disappointing your Prehta.”

“She’ll have a wedding dress to design, soon; I’m sure that will distract her from some kind of clothing coup for at least a week.”

They spoke with Tarr for a few minutes more, before moving on, and on doing so, Rey said in a quiet, reassuring voice, “I wouldn’t let her, by the way. Touch your things.”

“I know.” And she wouldn’t, not when she had first-hand experience in such matters. “Thank you.” 

Tarr had been pleasure, the rest duty. They spoke with allies from Kuat and Manaan and Chandrila; from Sullust and Dac and Joralla. Most conversations were stilted, even _cool,_ despite the intrigue Rey inspired, but they were all civil. 

Cela Aphrast, who had long led the galactic betting pool as his future bride, was conspicuously absent. 

“I’d like to see the kitchens,” Rey eventually told him in a whisper between conversations. 

“I could test-”

She cut off Ylse mid-sentence with a shake of her head and an apologetic smile. “I want to talk with the servants, out from under the eyes of their _mistress._”

The way her voice dripped with contempt on the last word, as if meaning something far more foul and insulting, gave Ben the strength to dip his head in agreement. He had no desire to tie Rey to his side indefinitely- she deserved better, and doing so would only serve the Resistance’s propaganda- but _kriff,_ he was loath to let her out of his sight in this den of vipers. “I expect to see you unmarred, after the fact,” he murmured into her ear, knowing their guards likely picked up at least half his words and not quite caring. “You’ll call for me, if something happens?”

“And let everyone in the galaxy see you storm out with lit lightsaber in hand?” Rey’s gaze turned conspicuously toward the presumably decorative drones that flitted around the room, the closest looking rather like the popular conception of the angels of Iego. “If I have to- and _only_ if I have to.” She turned into him with a small, vulnerable smile, the fingertips of her free hand pressing lightly against his chest as she explained in a soft undertone. “I want to talk to them, Ben. I was still a slave to Plutt, even after paying off my purchase price. The people here might not legally be slaves, but they’re _scared_\- and I want to know why.”

He kissed her, in the middle of the ballroom- just a brush of lips, but still enough to raise audible gasps around them. “Stay with Solah and Ylse. Please.”

“I will.” Rey cast the two women in question a wry look. “They’d at least _try_ knocking me out if I attempted to run off, which would slow me down.”

“Good.” Ben slid his arm from hers, feeling rather unmoored. _Remember your promise of time, sweetheart,_ he thought as she moved away, hoping she caught at least a glimmer of his meaning- and then he turned, and strode toward the first person to catch his eye. 

“Ephnar Gest,” he said with deadly calm, ignoring the bobble of the other man’s hand and the small wave of wine that splattered from his cup to the floor. “What a pleasure.”

\- - -

Guests and staff alike eyed her curiously as she swept out of the ballroom and through the set of plain doors reserved for those who served the estate, but no one issued an order to halt.

“Why would they?” Ylse replied when Rey commented on the fact, voice rendered harsh and metallic by her helm. “Solah and I are putting on a very threatening show.”

Rey picked up her skirts in both hands in preparation to descend a flight of stairs, about to make a flippant response to Ylse’s words, when a light laugh from above caught her attention. A woman perhaps a few years older than her stood on the landing for the next floor, peering down at her over the railing. 

_Not a servant._ The flutter of black and gold skirts and the abbreviated bodice that was probably high-fashion but just struck Rey as inadequate made that clear. _The marriageable heir,_ she decided, holding the other woman’s gaze with her own skirts still clutched in her hands. 

“You’re very plain, aren’t you?” she said with a curl of her lips. “When I heard that Kylo had been snared by a desert girl I expected something… more.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, and even at a distance Rey could see the calculation in her expression. “He must have little faith in his own power, to pin his hopes of a dynasty on you breeding true.”

Solah stepped toward the stairs, but stopped when Rey shook her head. She had more important things to do than get into a scrap over-

“What will you do, when he abandons you on some barren planet after you’ve given him a sufficiently powerful heir?” 

A pointed, painful blow, even with full knowledge that Ben would never knowingly abandon her. 

“Drink yourself to death, I suppose.”

For a long moment Rey was perfectly, incandescently numb with rage- and then she held out a hand, and a hairpin shot from the other woman’s braided and coiled hair to land squarely in Rey’s palm. “Perhaps I should collect the rest,” she gritted out. 

Her rival abruptly fled in a whirl of skirts, eyes wide and mien furious. Sucking in a breath, Rey dropped the pin to the floor. 

“You should have pulled _her_ over the railing,” Ylse said, voice hard. 

Rey kicked at the pin, filled with frustration. “By the time we return to the ballroom she’ll have half the guests believing I held a knife to her throat.”

And the act had felt… petty. It left a sour, lingering taste in her mouth. 

“Given a chance, she’d poison you with pleasure,” Solah pointed out, a hand landing lightly on Rey’s shoulder. “That was a lesson, and a painless one.”

Rey’s only reply was a shake of her head and the resumption of her trek.

She was still on edge by the time they reached the kitchens, but pushed the feeling aside in favor of the task in front of her. A ridiculous number of credits had gone into the creation of the space, she decided after giving the main room a long, assessing look. Impressive technology, gleaming surfaces, an abundance of food and tools spread over nearly every surface; everything a large staff needed to produce whatever the occupants of the estate might wish to eat. 

But no windows. No benches, no chairs, no spot for someone to take a break and drink a cup of water. As above, everyone kept their heads down and eyes averted- everyone, save an older woman who stared at her from behind a mound of half-cut vegetables, lekku twitching with slight, irritated movements. 

“Our pay will be docked if you’re caught on this level,” she told Rey flatly. “Here to appease your curiosity on how the working class live?”

A young man skirted around Rey, his shoulders hunched. “Is it just lost pay that has everyone so terrified, or are they worried for other reasons?”

The other woman pushed aside a heap of finely diced root vegetables, placing some kind of pepper in the empty space. “Oh, we’re as easy and free as morning larks, my lady.” She didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm infusing every word. “Shall we sing for you?”

“The maid in the entrance hall- the one with dark curls- has bruises peeking out from under one sleeve,” Rey said quietly, watching carefully as the knife stilled in mid-air. “One of the men pouring wine winces faintly every time a voice is raised. Nearly everyone looks underfed.”

The woman gave her a pointed look, gaze flicking briefly toward the room’s entrance. “I have no time to play games.”

“I want to help.”

“Help yourself.” She shook her head dismissively, a hint of pity in her eyes. “Leave, and pray that Lady Aphrast doesn’t sabotage your family’s industry or undermine your marriage prospects.”

In an odd way, it was a relief not to be recognized on sight. Rey looked over her shoulder at Ylse, who had taken up position behind her. “Do I look so different? ”

“Stars,” the other woman muttered disdainfully from across the table, resuming her work with quick, sure movements. 

“It’s the necklace,” Ylse opined. “You could mesmerize someone with that thing.”

“Is that why people keep staring at my chest?” Rey asked, aiming for a joking tone and halfway succeeding. “I thought everyone was judging my tits and finding them lacking.”

“Ren’s definitely admiring your chest; everyone else is lusting after those rubies.”

The sound of chopping- the sound of any movement at all, in the room- halted. Rey looked back across the table to find the woman looking a little queasy. “You’re Rey of Jakku.”

“Yes.”

She set down the knife, hissing “_Kriff_” under her breath, and then wiped her hands down her apron. “My apologies,” she said in a steadier, far more formal tone. “I am Ute, lady, and-”

“You don’t need to apologize or call me ‘lady’. I’m interrupting your work.” 

Ute considered her frozen, silent coworkers, and seemed to make a decision. “Would you like to speak privately?”

“_Please._”

Ute’s chosen spot was a large pantry, one so stuffed with various cans and jars that Rey felt a brief spurt of hot, instinctual greed. “This is not a safe place for you,” Ute told her the moment the door had closed with Ylse guarding the other side, gaze flicking toward Solah. “You’re not popular with the Aphrasts.”

“I’ve noticed,” Rey said dryly. “I don’t care about that; I care about all of you.”

Ute blinked, considering Rey as if she were a new, strange species. “Why?”

“Because I’ve starved. I’ve been in pain and unable to afford bacta.” Rey swallowed, palms growing damp. “I’ve been owned by a master who only cared about how much I could scavenge before my body gave out… and who would have sold me to a brothel, given the chance. So.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I don’t care how wealthy your mistress is. You’re scared; tell me why. Please.”

Ute stared at her for a long, long moment- and then nodded, and pointed at a low stool. “Take a seat,” she said quietly. “We have a lot to talk about.”

\- - -

“Is it just me, or is your outfit tonight just a smidge softer?”

For the first time since Rey had left his side, Ben felt actual relief. “You’re imagining things,” he said as he turned, allowing himself the barest upturn of lips at the sight of Lando. “Were you invited to this party, or did you just walk right in?”

His uncle winked, looking impeccably put together. “Amazing, the number of invitations I started receiving after you visited Cloud City. Everyone hopes I’ll give them some good gossip.”

“And Lady Aphrast wants…?”

“Any intel that would lead to you putting Rey aside.” Lando smiled down into his glass of wine. “I refrained from laughing in her face, because I am polite.”

“You didn’t have to be _that_ polite,” Ben replied dryly. “Rey will be pleased to see you.”

“And I her. I hear congratulations are in order.” He cast Ben a teasing look. “Was I right, about Queen’s Heart?”

“You were right about hers.” Ben kept his voice low, his eyes on the crowd around them. Guests conversed and tittered, flirted and threatened. “I’d invite you back to the _Steadfast,_ but we still have a would-be assassin on the loose.”

Lando nodded, casually setting his goblet- the contents untouched, as best Ben could tell- on a nearby table. “Where is your lady?”

“She wanted to speak with the servants.” Her end of the bond was all grim accomplishment, so _something_ had gone her way. 

There was a commotion from the other side of the room: Cela, dressed in a white gown that made her appear delicate and fragile, a look of distress on her face. A new game was being played, and Ben already knew that he had no patience for it. “I need to discuss this with Rey,” he said softly, keeping an eye on Cela as she tearfully whispered something to a concerned clutch of men, “but would you be willing to host a very large wedding?”

Lando kept a keen gaze on the same contrived tableau, but his pleasure in the question was still evident. “We generally specialize in elopements, but I’m sure we could accommodate the Supreme Leader and his-”

He paused in a very purposeful way. “What _will_ Rey’s title be?”

“Whatever Rey wants it to be.”

“Fair. And-”

His second pause seemed far less calculated. “I have guests,” Lando said softly. “Who would like to speak with both of you.” 

Cela’s machinations took a distant second place, at that moment, as did the shocked glances beginning to turn his way. “And what,” he asked, mouth dry and throat tight, “does my mother think of Poe’s tactics?” 

“Fuming, when I left. Chewie, too.” His uncle looked tired, for the span of a handful of seconds. “I’d appreciate if my home weren’t the setting for a _second_ round of tragedies in your family. I’m trusting you with this information, Ben.”

“I understand.” A bare whisper, but a truthful one. “I need to think.”

“Of course,” Lando said with a slight nod, eyes narrowing. “I believe she’s dripping poison in a number of ears, little starfighter.”

Ben huffed a noiseless, humorless laugh. He could barely breathe, and wanted nothing more than a moment of peace and quiet- but this was no place for weakness, or reflection. He stood on a battleground of false faces and falser words, and his shields could not be allowed to slip. 

The glimmer of gold under chandelier light drew his eye: Rey, returning flanked by her guards and wearing a small, sharp smile which softened the moment she spotted him. Whispers heightened in pitch from Cela’s corner. 

“Have you upended the board?” he asked Rey in a murmur as Lando kissed her hand in greeting, and felt a flash of bruised anger from her. 

“I’ve certainly stolen a number of pieces,” she murmured back, gaze darting to the situation across the room. “That’s not what she was wearing when I saw her last.”

“You met Cela?” 

“Yes.” The affirmation was clipped, almost harsh, and was accompanied by that same bruised feeling. “Neither of us made a good impression on the other.”

Ben bent his head toward her, brushing a kiss over the delicate upper curve of her ear as his hand settled at the small of her back. “Do you need me to do anything, sweetheart?”

“No.” Not a lie, but definitely a heartfelt wish that concealed a story he dearly wished to hear. 

But that, he decided, could wait. “Then would you like to leave?” 

“_Kriff,_ yes. Though,” she added after a beat of hesitation, “we have to wait planet-side just a little longer.” Another beat. “For the transport ship.”

He considered her carefully. “Just how many pieces did you steal?”

“Her entire support staff.” Rey offered him a half-smile. “I don’t suppose you have a palatial estate of your own somewhere that could use a great deal of help.”

As Lando attempted to muffle a burst of laughter, Ben hid his own amusement and took a quick look around the room. Not a servant in sight. “I believe we can manage something. Do we need to take a look at employment laws for this sector?”

“Desperately.” She had the feel of someone who wanted to run, but still held her ground as she looked toward Lando. “Would like to join us on our ship while we wait? I’m starving- and,” she added, tone rueful, “I think I’ve worn out our welcome.”

“I never turn down an invitation from a lovely lady. I believe I could find employment for a few people, if anyone wishes to emigrate to Bespin.”

“I’ll ask.” 

They were halfway to the door when Lady Aphrast swept toward them, cold with rage. “Your- your _guest,_ my lord,” she said in a crisp voice, “attacked and insulted my daughter.”

“I didn’t say a word to her, though she certainly said many unwarranted ones to me,” Rey snapped, her back tense under his hand. “As for my actions, I did only _this-_”

Ben felt a tug on the Force, one so small and specific that he nearly laughed when he saw the pin fly from Lorna Aphrast’s hair into Rey’s hand. “A single hairpin,” Rey said, tossing the object to the floor. “And then I let her leave, unmolested.”

“You-”

“And then _I_ spoke with your staff.” Rey paused, a slight smile appearing on her face. “My staff, now.”

The Aphrasts- and most of the crowd- gaped at her, though Ben caught approval on Tarr’s face when he did a quick sweep for threats. 

“You spied on them. You abused them, emotionally and physically. You-”

“They never left,” Lady Aphrast interrupted, only to take an actual step back when Rey snarled.

“They _couldn’t._ You kept their wages too low, and charged for food and housing-”

“Which is legal.”

“Not for long,” Rey said with promise. “You will be charged according to current laws for your other crimes, which are many.” Her mouth thinned. “And while I cannot confiscate your droids, I recommend caution.”

She looked up at Ben, expression composed but a definite pleading note mixed into her welter of emotions. “I’m ready to leave.”

“Of course.” He smiled, for her and her alone, and then turned a far graver expression on those in front of them. “I suggest you contact your legal counsel, Lady Aphrast.”

And they left with a stunned crowd at their back and a transport ship en route, her arm tucked through his and his stride matching hers.


	13. plans and plots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently behind on replying to comments, but my sincere thanks to everyone who has taken a moment to leave one this past week- times are weird, and your encouraging words have been (and still are!) so helpful. I hope you are all safe and well.

She was quiet as he pulled pins free, as he carefully unwound braids and coils until her hair lay in a rippling mass around her shoulders. “You did well,” he murmured for not the first time, drawing a brush through the strands. “You truly did, Rey.”

“It was petty.” She felt like a storm, all bruised clouds and rain. “I should have walked away.”

“When have you ever walked away from a challenge?” Ben asked fondly, setting the brush aside and pulling her unresisting onto his lap. “You’ve given dozens-”

“Not those I hired.” There was a new strength to Rey’s voice even as she cuddled into him, breath hot against the crook of his neck. “The hairpin. I… she was standing above me, saying things that-”

She broke off abruptly, fingers plucking at the thin undershirt he still wore. “I could have pulled her over the railing,” she muttered. “I could have choked the air from her lungs. We both have so much power, and… and where’s the line, when you can snatch a hairpin as easily as breath?”

And that gave him pause, because her concern was something he couldn’t- and shouldn’t- dismiss. “Worried about falling to the dark, sweetheart?” 

“A little. I don’t want to be feared. Or worshiped.” The curve of her body was tense, almost trembling under his arm. “If I’m going to rule, I need to be told when I cross a line.”

“Hmm.” Ben laid his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes. “I suspect you didn’t decide to steal a hairpin on a whim.”

For a long moment she said nothing, the whirl of her thoughts an almost tangible sensation. “She might have made a lucky guess, but there are only two people beside me who know the truth about my parents: you, and Finn. I told him after Crait, and only once.”

He was careful to keep his voice even, his tone soft. “What did she say?”

Rey heaved a sigh, squirming out of his arms to sit cross-legged on the bed beside him. “Her theory,” she said with a bite to her words that was almost self-deprecating, “is that after I’ve given you an heir you’ll abandon me and I’ll drink myself to death.” 

Anger had become a different experience for Ben, after Snoke; the longer his mind was his own, the less prone he was to mindless fits of destructive rage. Anger, when it came, had become something to sit and reflect on, teasing out means and motives and his own most delicate triggers. The idea of anyone using Rey’s own past as a cudgel against her made him feel rather like destroying a wall of expensive machinery until he was left a panting mess. 

“Of course,” Rey added in a lighter tone, “if you ever tried to separate me from our children I would tear out your heart with my bare hands.”

A short, startled laugh escaped his mouth, the frenetic need to rend abruptly replaced by a shaky emptiness. “_Rey._” He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, and felt steadier on contact. “I would let you.”

“I know.” A corner of her mouth tipped up as she inclined her head into one palm, but her eyes were tired. “I just can’t be the kind of person who snaps every time someone comes a little too close to old hurts. Not anymore. So.” She reached up to wrap her hand loosely around his wrist. “I have to be careful of hairpins.”

When he leaned in for a kiss she met him halfway, tasting of the tea and cake she’d eaten on their return. “And you,” she whispered, curving her free hand around the back of his neck, “you were on edge even before we left.” Rey kept close, soft in a way that she seemed to reserve only for him. “Was it just the company?”

“No.” He hadn’t told her, not yet- because they had been within earshot of multiple people when Lando had visited with them, and because Rey had fallen asleep in her seat almost the moment they had hit atmo. “Lando’s harboring my mother and Chewie.”

“Ah.” She sat back, hands falling away to the bedspread with a frisson of nerves he could feel in his own belly. “And he told you?”

“Freely, which- given what happened the last time my family was involved in a confrontation on Bespin…”

“He trusts you.” Rey tapped his knee with one finger, smoothing the same hand halfway up his thigh as she leaned forward. “What do you want to do?”

“This is your decision, too.” He curved his hand over hers, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion and uncertainty, and a fierce need for silence and sleep and Rey’s warmth against his back. “He said that they’re upset about Poe’s methods.” Her flinch was barely perceptible, the hitch in her breath more so. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She seemed to be studying the overlap of his hand over hers. “I think we’ve both been dreading and wanting this moment for a long time,” Rey said finally, meeting his gaze. “And that we should decide tomorrow, when we don’t feel quite so…”

“Fragile?” he offered quietly, and she jerked her head in a short nod. “Then we should rest, and wait.”

Her next nod was easier, and one born of relief- and then she laughed a little, a hint of pink appearing on her cheeks. “She was jealous of me. I could tell, even if that wasn’t my main focus at that moment.”

“Cela?” Ben leaned back against the pillows, leisurely stroking the back of her hand. “She’s power hungry… and she would probably stab someone for your Prehta.”

“Well, yes. But also jealous because of this.” She squeezed his thigh, wearing an expression that was both mischievous and begrudging. “She wants _you,_ and it annoys me that we have the same taste in men.”

Ben raised a brow, hiding a smirk. “Hulking, glowering monsters?”

Rey cackled, loud and wild, and crawled onto his lap. “Ben.” There was a hint of shyness to her even as she pressed close, arms around his neck. “My understanding, gentle, and tall Ben.” 

No one had ever known him as well or as intimately as Rey, not even his own family. “She would have eaten me alive, given the chance.” 

It was only half a joke. The idea of being in bed with Cela had scared the kriff out of him, and the thought of handing her almost unchecked power had given him sleepless nights. Even if Rey hadn’t tugged at him from across the galaxy Ben would have resisted making that particular match. 

“I want to devour you, sometimes.” More of that shyness peeking through. “But never like that, Ben. Never to diminish you.”

They were both, in their own ways, a little scared of their own bodies and how they might fit together. “I know.”

“Will you braid my hair?” Rey stroked his cheek, expression open and vulnerable for him. “I’d like that.”

He practiced _dearest heart_ for ten minutes straight before he realized that she had fallen asleep, head pillowed on his thigh, and then- carefully, patiently- shifted her onto the pillows and wrapped himself protectively around her.

\- - -

They overslept, and in the brief period of time between waking and work Prehta hustled Rey into the fresher to bathe before dressing her in green and gold, with barely a moment to kiss Ben good morning and eat breakfast. Rey felt rather like everything could wait for her to eat more than toast and drink a cup of caf, but she had started days on far less, in her life- more often than not, really- and she had hairpins on her mind. 

And maybe something more, thanks to an uneasy night’s sleep. 

_How could you side with him?_ The voice- gender nonspecific- was urgent and hurt. _How could you beg for him, Rey?_

Difficult to tell if memory were finally resurfacing, or if she had had a particularly vibrant dream the night before. _Not that it matters,_ she thought, sliding a glance toward Ben as he opened the council meeting. _I’d do it again, a thousand times over._

The throne room, her eventual flight from the Resistance, her decision to stay. Bureaucracy might not be her preferred mode of operation (_hairpins_; she might never forget), but Ben was worth the annoyance. From now on she would be careful, measured, respectable-

“This cannot happen again.” 

Rey- stomach growling and caught off guard- stiffened. “Pardon?”

“You cannot filch menials from anyone who offends you,” Deze said in a tone that Rey read as condescending. “The Aphrasts-”

“Are criminals,” Rey interrupted coolly, catching the way Ben’s eyes narrowed. “And I have no intention of hiring every mistreated employee I come across. I’m going to change the laws, instead.”

With her fists, if need be. Kriff respectability. 

“_We’re_ going to change the laws,” Ben said in a way that managed to support her point without overriding her authority or using condescension himself. “Which means-”

“A committee?” Rey muttered, and felt a flash of amusement from him. 

“I have numerous contacts in that sector,” Cass said from her seat at Ben’s left hand. “With your permission, my lord, my lady, I would be willing to oversee a group of my most trusted to see what might be done.”

Rey met Ben’s questioning gaze and gave him a slight nod, and he nodded in return. “We look forward to your report,” Ben said, touching her knee lightly under the table. “Sul, your update on-”

“If I may?”

Cass looked appropriately apologetic for interrupting, but Rey knew and understood just why Ben looked to her without a word. The trust there was obvious, and Rey was inclined to trust the older woman herself- but not quite yet. Anyone at that table might have made the attempt on her life, and perhaps Cass had decided that the Supreme Leader’s consort needed to be someone a bit less opinionated. 

_Cela would have been very opinionated,_ Rey thought sourly, and settled back into her seat. _But in a more lucrative way._

“You’re popular,” Cass told her with a crisp smile. “Not with everyone-”

She didn’t look toward Deze, but the implication was there. “But with some, and with the Aphrasts foolishly- or luckily, depending on your view- electing to livestream those holocams, the rumors the Resistance are trying to spread are looking rather thin.”

“Not enough,” Xors grumped from the other end of the table, and Cass nodded. 

“Not enough. There are already people claiming that you were coached, that the entire event was staged. Now,” Cass said with a nod, “we’ll never please _everyone-_ but we can do more.”

“You need to separate us,” Rey said flatly as a wave of bitter acceptance seeped through the bond. Ben’s hand found her knee again. “Publicly, so that no one can accuse Kylo of influencing me.”

They had both known that the day would come, but Rey had nurtured a secret hope that maybe, maybe they might still have some time before being separated by more than just visiting different parts of the fleet. 

“Exactly. Two days from now there is a meeting on Canto Bight that would benefit from Lord Ren’s presence. At the same time, on Pasaana-”

Min Pleth snorted. “That dust heap?”

“The Festival of the Ancestors is good PR,” Cass said firmly with a sharp glare. “With Lady Rey arriving unexpectedly the chances of a prearranged assassination attempt would be low, and the Aki-Aki aren’t exactly known for aggressive behavior. She enjoys the festivities, smiles at the locals, cuddles a few babies, all while tailed by a discrete holocam. With her stylist’s help she’ll look glowing with health- which you are,” she said directly to Rey. “But holos occasionally need a few extra touches.”

Ben wasn’t fond of the idea, that much was clear by his outward expression and the way his hand flexed. “Have you forgotten,” he asked with chilling calm, “that there is still at least one person- likely on this ship- who wants my intended dead? Arriving without forewarning may spare us trouble from a known enemy, but there is no possible way to arrange for Rey’s transport and security without alerting a large number of people within this fleet.”

Everyone flicked a glance toward Rey and then back to Ben. “The match is set, then?” Sul asked, pulling his datapad closer. “Confirmed?”

“You sound surprised,” Cass said with mild amusement, and merely smiled when Sul directed a glare in her direction.

“_Implied_ is not the same as _confirmed,_” he said haughtily. “And confirmed is a challenge. In terms of preparations,” he added quickly. “I assume the lady does not wish to have the ceremony on her home world?”

For a moment- a brief, brief moment- Rey considered saying _yes_ solely because of the pained tone with which he had said the words. “The lady does not,” she replied dryly instead. 

“We are considering Cloud City,” Ben said in a voice that bordered on too smooth. “And no one has answered my question.”

_We are, are we?_ Not that Rey was averse to the idea, and it would give them a reason to visit Bespin sooner rather than later, but she still might tease him about it. In private. 

“Unless you are willing to confine Lady Rey to your quarters-”

“No,” Rey snapped even as Min groaned and muttered “A PR _nightmare._”

“-then she must be seen and risks must be taken.” Cass folded her hands on the tabletop. “Select her team personally, if you like, from her knight escorts to the ship mechanic. She would be just as much at risk staying here alone or going with you to Canto Bight- more, in many ways.” She glanced at Rey, that faint amusement back again. “Though perhaps you’re in the mood to hire more staff?”

Rey snorted, curving her hand over Ben’s own and giving it a squeeze. “If Canto Bight has similar labor laws, then I’ll be making my way there eventually.”

“A number of sectors might make changes voluntarily, to forestall that fate.” Min lifted a brow when the others looked in her direction. “You were all thinking it.”

“If they do, you would have more time for other matters,” Ben murmured into Rey’s ear as the council began to civilly squabble. “I’m loath to send you away, but…”

“But Cass has a point. And after… perhaps we meet at Cloud City?” she suggested softly, wishing they had been able to discuss Leia and Chewie for even a moment that morning. “For wedding planning purposes, naturally.”

Ben’s expression softened minutely at her words, warmth slipping through his worry and tension. “As I’m hoping to be a married man sooner rather than later, that might be wise.”

Truthful, Rey decided as she felt faint heat color her cheeks. He might not look forward to seeing those who waited for them there- she could feel his nerves over confronting both Leia and Chewie, and those nerves were not passing or minor- but his desire for marriage was no feigned thing. _His version of ‘mine’- the words, the ring, the official forms- when my first instinct would be to bite him on the neck._

She still might (lightly, and carefully), but suspected that she would enjoy the sight of Ben wearing her ring just as much as he would enjoy seeing his on her. 

Pulling away from him, Rey raised her voice. “I’ll go to Pasaana, but I’ll be choosing my own team.” 

It was time for more than just the knights and Prehta to get to know their future leader. 

\- - -

“Here.” Solah handed him another datacard, features grim. “Someone attempted to access Rey’s comms using your credentials. They didn’t succeed- they hadn’t quite figured out the exact codes- but everything has been changed as per policy.”

Ben stared at her, stunned and feeling a wave of burgeoning fury. “From where?”

“Impossible to say,” she said in a clipped tone, and didn’t flinch when he made an abrupt turn and began to pace. “They cover their tracks well- too well, in all honesty.”

“A professional?” Too small a room to truly stretch his legs, leaving him feeling penned in and even more irritated. “Everyone who works in security has been considered?”

“Considered and reconsidered. They’re all under so much surveillance I wouldn’t be surprised if at least a few ask for transfers just for a chance to breathe without being questioned.”

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking of Rey talking of hairpins and boundary lines. “Who else has the training?”

“No one, according to personnel files, or not at that level. They’ve been questioned as well, of course.” She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms. “Send me with her to Pasaana.”

“Rey’s picking her own team.” 

“Then put in a word for me.” Solah smiled slightly, though without humor. “She doesn’t trust me, you know. She thinks I want to kriff you.”

Ben blinked, surprised enough to stop in his tracks. “You don’t want to kriff anyone. You never have.”

“Which is my personal business, but I’d appreciate if you told her that I don’t want to share a bed with you _or_ wear some horrifically tawdry crown at major events.” Solah grimaced. “I doubt she wants the latter either, honestly, but she’s apparently decided that the pageantry is a small price to pay- and she’s _good_ for you. Watching you crumble into despair or destroy part of the galaxy over her death is not something I’m interested in doing, and if that means breathing down her neck until she attempts to gut me I’m happy to take that risk.”

Ben very nearly smiled, despite the topic. “She might try.”

“Part of the reason why I like her.” Solah sighed. “Ask Rey if she’ll take me along. I’ll explain to her just how little I’m interested in seeing your dick-”

“Solah.”

“-and that I’m looking forward to guarding your children as they toddle along some ocean strand one day.” 

What anger was left faded at the thought of his possible children collecting shells and splashing in the shallows. “I trust you,” he said quietly, and earnestly. “Keep her safe for me, Solah.”

“I will, or you’ll be burying me right alongside her.” She straightened, making her way toward the door and touching his shoulder lightly as she passed. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to visit Pasaana.”

“Now you _are_ lying.”

“A diplomatic kind of lie, yes.” Solah looked back at him, hand hovering over the door controls. “I don’t like this mission, Kylo. I understand the reasoning, and I’m not accusing Eddor of intrigue, but I don’t like the timing- and there is no denying that she and Pryde keep company.” She gave him a significant look. “Not that I’m accusing Pryde of anything either, but he disapproves of your new ways. Watch your back; I’ll watch hers.”

Ben turned toward the viewport as the door slid shut, barely registering the sea of stars spread out before him, and cast his mind toward Rey. Safe, and sound, and close. 

For the moment, at least.

\- - -

“It’s not white,” Prehta said defensively before Rey could utter a word. “It’s _blush._”

Rey- her mind still half on the list of people in front of her- frowned at the swatch of material. “It’s very pale.”

Prehta sighed, tossing the swatch down onto a pile of rejects. “You’re right.” She bit her lower lip, eyes narrowing as she focused on the contents of the box on her lap. As she began to sift through gleaming scraps of cloth, Rey returned to her own perplexing problem: her new employees. She didn’t regret her rash decision- how could she, knowing how they had been treated?- but reality had caught up with generosity as she scrambled to find permanent places for those who now answered directly to her. 

_Maybe I should ask Ben to buy an estate,_ she thought dryly. _I can’t do this again. I can never do this again._

“Would you like an assistant?” she asked aloud. “Or six?”

“I might need twelve, to handle you,” Prehta muttered, tossing aside a flutter of red. “Who do you have in mind?”

“I’m taking that as a compliment. There are personal stylists, seamstresses, and tailors on this list; most want to try their luck elsewhere, but not all.”

“I’ll talk to those remaining and see if I can work with them.” Prehta paused. “You’re giving them some kind of financial assistance, aren’t you?”

“The Aphrasts stole most of their earnings.” Rey scrolled through the list again. “I can’t just drop them on some random planet. But more want to stay than I expected- and want to work for _me,_ not the First Order.” 

Prehta didn’t look surprised, when Rey glanced up at her. “I really will need more help, eventually. This has been light duty, so far, but if I want to get any sleep after you marry I’ll need staff.”

“Before we leave for Pasaana, then, if you can.” With a sense of relief Rey focused on the next category. Many of those who had worked in the kitchens had leapt at the chance to settle elsewhere- including Bespin, when it was offered- save for Ute and a handful of assistants, and they had no desire to enter the havoc that were the First Order’s mess halls. 

“Not that I’m a snob,” Ute had said. “But I didn’t leave the Aphrasts to cook for soldiers. I left to cook for _you._”

Rey’s protests that her palate wasn’t exactly discerning hadn’t made a difference. “Who cooked for Snoke?” she asked after a moment of thought. “Assuming he ate at all and didn’t just feed off of fear and nightmares.”

“He had his own personal chef,” Prehta replied a little distantly. “And expensive tastes.”

“Where are they now?”

“Ahh.” A beat. “In prison for attempting to poison the current Supreme Leader.”

Rey repressed the urge to snarl, hands tightening around the datapad. “So the position is open?” she asked when she could again trust her voice.

Prehta blinked, a corner of her mouth curving upward. “Yes.”

“Well.” Rey focused on the scrap of green between Prehta’s fingers, a shade not unlike her first glimpse of the forests on Takodana. “I guess I have a chef, then.”


	14. a parting

“I don’t want to go.” The words slipped out a little louder than Rey had intended, and she had barely intended to speak at all. “I know I have to,” she continued as Ben set aside his datapad with a concerned expression. “You don’t have to stop reading, I’m just…”

She grimaced, swallowing hard. “Worried.” And missing him already, though they were resting side by side in bed, stealing a handful of quiet minutes before sleep. It was the only time Ben read for pleasure, as best Rey could tell, and their new braiding practice ate into that indulgence. 

She was going to miss the feel of his fingers in her hair, too. 

“You don’t _have_ to,” he said firmly, taking her hand. “You can still alter your plans, and at any time.”

Rey shook her head, briefly biting her lower lip. “No. We have to get used to being separated, and really my mission is an easy one. Heavy on smiling, low on politics.”

“Unlike Canto Bight,” he murmured, looking amused. “There will be very little smiling on my part. ‘Looming menacingly’ sums up my basic mode whenever I set foot on that planet.”

“Maybe the bond will open again, while we’re apart. It hasn’t since-”

She hesitated, smiling wryly. “Since someone tried to kill me.”

“Do you promise not to shoot on sight, like on Ahch-To?”

She laughed at his teasing tone, nudging his arm with her own. “No.”

“I’ll be on my guard, then.” Ben’s humor died, though he kept his low, intimate tone. “You picked a good team, Rey. There’s not one I would replace- though Mitaka was an interesting choice.” 

“He doesn’t want to kill either of us, unlike certain people,” she replied, thinking back to the man in question. “I think there’s actual respect, there- for you, if not for me.”

“He’s seen me at my worst.” Ben smiled, slightly. “He was the one who told me you were on Takodana.” 

“Ah, so I have Mitaka to thank for my abduction.” 

“I was very clear that you were my _guest,_” Ben replied with exaggerated patience, and- after a long, searching look- released her hand and shifted to straddle her thighs, carefully keeping his full weight off of her. “You seem to have developed an appreciation for my hospitality over time,” he continued softly, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“Well,” she replied with a catch to her breath, “your methods improved.” Resisting the urge to squirm- the flutter in her stomach, the dull throb between her thighs impossible to ignore- she curved a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. “Come here.”

He was smiling as they kissed, smiling as he cupped her breast through the thin material of her nightgown. “You’re so sweet, Rey,” he murmured against her mouth, and made a choked laugh when she nipped at his lower lip. “And fierce.”

“I’m not sweet.” She rather felt like it, though, with his hands and mouth so occupied, as if she were one of the desserts on the dinner table and he were intent on savoring every crumb. “You are.”

And it wasn’t enough, rubbing her thighs together and feeling his hand at a remove, not enough no matter how deep the kiss nor how close she pressed. The bows that served as shoulder straps (_why,_ she had thought on first donning it, eyeing the pretty green ribbons dubiously) suddenly seemed like a gift and a solution. 

Ben pulled back when she tugged one bow loose, his puzzlement abruptly changing to a fixed stare at the drape of cloth over the back of his hand and the revealed curve of her upper breast. “More freckles,” he said, almost to himself. Carefully he slid his hand down, fabric following, and the noise he made on first seeing her nipple was intoxicating. 

The explorative stroke of his thumb, skin to skin, surprised a noise of her own from her throat. “Pink,” Ben was murmuring. “Prettier than I ever could have imagined.” 

When he finally looked away, meeting her eyes, the awestruck intensity in his gaze briefly made her forget what words even were. “May I kiss you there?”

Her whispered answer was raw and barely audible. “Yes.”

A nuzzle, first, as he breathed in the scent of her skin, and then the lightest of touches as his lower lip brushed her areola. “You have hair, here.” As if that were the most fascinating discovery he had ever made. “Does the other one look the same?”

Rey was melting back into the pillows, eyes on him and his unabashed interest. “Maybe I’ll let you see. On Bespin.”

He chuckled, hot breath sweeping over her skin, and licked- and when she arched up with a gasp, closed his mouth around the peak. 

If her mind hadn’t immediately gone to fuzz, every bit of concentration focused on his mouth and the throb between her thighs and a need for pressure, Rey might have been a bit miffed by how kriffing satisfied he was by her reaction. Might have tried to give as good as she got, if her greed for keeping him exactly where he was (_or not,_ a part of her mind insisted with startling clarity, wanting that mouth lower) hadn’t been so overpowering. 

“Ben?”

Had she ever whimpered before? Rey wasn’t quite sure, and didn’t really care.

“Hmm?” He sounded distracted, but met her gaze with his eyes veiled by long, dark lashes, and then seemed to smirk as his mouth popped free and she whimpered again (_kriff_) at the burst of cool air over heated skin. “Sweetheart.” Ben shifted, one leg settling heavy between her own. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Not yet,” was her honest answer, hips pressing upward, and he again bent his head to one peaked, reddened nipple with a smile. 

She knew, even while gasping and grinding against his thigh, even as his tongue swirled and his hand wrapped around her hip, encouraging her ever up, that the situation wasn’t exactly equitable. Reciprocity was in her bones (_when terms are fair, when I’m not being cheated_) and Ben was being more than generous, but when she tried to sneak a hand between them for the erection she could feel pressed against her stomach he just laughed unevenly and nipped at the under-curve of her breast. 

“No need to work,” he murmured against sensitive skin. “Just enjoy it.”

“You need to enjoy things, too.”

“I’m enjoying this.” The feel of his mind was too earnest, too smug for her to doubt that. “Rey-”

“Our lives have both been kriffing terrible.” When he paused in his attentions, eyes once more meeting hers, she brushed her fingertips against the sensitive skin just under his waistband. “I won’t enjoy myself when you aren’t.”

“I won’t last very long,” Ben said quietly. “Maybe someday, but- but right now, making you happy is all I want.”

“You’re on the cusp.” Rey might not know much about the finer points of mating, but she could feel just how close Ben was to the edge. “I want to help.”

The heat in his gaze only increased. “Let me get you closer, then? One touch might finish me, sweetheart.” Heat, and a kind of molten sweetness. “I’m going to need practice.”

It was a compromise she could accept- and when she finally shoved a hand under his sleep pants, her entire body electric, the way he whimpered while sucking a bruise into her neck was worth the wait.

“Rey?” he murmured against her skin after, sounding rather dazed. “I hope you will let me see both, on Bespin.”

Quivering, Rey thought of the gold gown still tucked into the recesses of her wardrobe and tightened her arms around him, a hand in his hair. “I think so.”

Maybe more. 

\- - - 

“Keep the bond open.”

Ben stared down at Rey, her hands gripping his tunic with a ferocity he knew well, and bent his head with a soft smile that would likely cause at least a few double-takes from those currently in the launch bay. “As if I could close it, at this point.” The ache of leaving her was already a physical thing, but they couldn’t stay side by side forever. Not with the roles they filled, nor with the hopes they fostered. “I hear the festival has some spectacular kites.”

She gave him a look that immediately made him feel a little ashamed of making light of the situation. “If you get stabbed by some snobbish bantha kriffer I will piss on your grave,” Rey informed him flatly, manicured nails digging deep into quilted cloth. 

Despite himself, he grinned. “I know.”

“You don’t need to look so delighted by the fact.”

“Rey, I have every intention of marrying you,” Ben told her quietly, hands settling at her waist. “And raising children with you, when we’re ready. I’m not going to let myself be taken out by someone infuriated that my policies have deprived them of credits that they would normally never take notice of.”

“If I can.” She said the words haltingly, looking pained. “Have children.”

And maybe, he thought, that had just added to Cela’s poisoned jabs, even if Rey hadn’t considered it at the time- the idea of children at all. “If we can’t, or you decide you would prefer not be pregnant-”

He hid his own desire to see her carrying deep, even as Rey set her mouth in a mulish scowl. 

“-we could adopt.” And he would like that, too, because Ben had known what it was to long for a secure and happy place in the galaxy. “We could do that even if we do have biological children.”

Her features eased along with her grip. “We could. I think I would like that, actually.” 

“So I’ll be back. Because we have things to do.”

Rey lifted to her toes, lips close to his. “I recognize bravado when I hear it, Ben.”

“I know.” He kissed her gently, the light pressure of his mouth belied by the secure grasp of his hands at her waist. “But I have to strive forward, sweetheart- and someday I want to hold a child that we love, and I don’t care if they have the Force, or if we’re related by blood.”

She blinked rapidly, a sheen of tears in her eyes. “Remember what I said about your grave.”

“I doubt I could ever forget.”

And he let her go, with guards at her back and Rey casting him a look that promised all manner of frustrated vengeance if he were ill-mannered enough to die before meeting her on Bespin. 

“No wonder you love her,” Kiren said quietly, sounding amused. “She would tear the Hutts to shreds if they threatened one of your nose hairs.”

“I would do the same,” Ben murmured, and his guards both huffed a laugh that indicated just how clearly that point had been made. 

\- - -

On her first night aboard the luxuriously outfitted _Spinebarrel_ (“Apt,” Ben had said when she’d named the ship, pressing a lingering kiss to her hair), sleep refused to come. 

“I’ve gotten spoiled,” Rey muttered, throwing back rumpled covers and sitting up, socked feet flat against the floor. After only a few weeks of stealing Ben’s warmth she couldn’t seem to fall asleep without it, no matter the number of blankets on the bed- and more than that, she missed the feel of the rise and fall of his chest under her hand, and the way his soap smelled on the skin at the nape of his neck. 

Reaching out, she slapped the button next to the bed, creating a pool of warm light just bright enough to read by. She would while away an hour or two with a book, if she could find her datapad. Prehta had unpacked for her while Rey had been busy inspecting the galley stores and talking with her crew, most of whom had seemed a little bemused by her interest in them outside of their credentials. Lieutenant Mitaka had given her a wide-eyed, uncertain look when she had asked him to sit with her, but over two cups of tea and a pastry had gradually lost some of his shyness while answering her questions about his parents (both still living, and frequent correspondents), his siblings (two sisters, neither of whom worked for the First Order), and his favorite holo film (_The Wide Chandrilan Sea,_ which he had blushed to admit and had earned a mental slot on her ‘to watch’ list). 

Really, it hadn’t been until she’d finally given in to Prehta’s hints that maybe, possibly she should sleep that Rey had begun to feel the itch of loneliness, and a grumpy yearning for the way Ben always looked so genuinely pleased when she plopped down on her side of the bed.

_Maybe I’ll watch that holo,_ she thought as she pulled open the nearest drawer, only to find not only her datapad but a small box and a folded piece of paper. _Actual_ paper, to her awe, and not just flimsiplast. Rey had touched paper only once, in her life: a shred scavenged from a Star Destroyer on Jakku, the scrap soft and ink faded. It had been, as best she could tell, part of a love note, and Plutt had given her a whole portion for it. “A collectible,” he had said with a sneer.

She unfolded her second piece of paper, and sucked in a breath at the most finely written Aurebesh she’d ever seen in her life, the ink dark, precise lines against cream. 

_Rey, _

_I intend to give you many gifts over the coming years- peaceful nights, more water than you know what to do with, a full stomach whenever you please- and this is a small thing in comparison to all of that. I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless. _

_Take care of yourself, sweetheart. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep without you._

_Ben_

His heart written on the page for anyone to see, and in what must be his own handwriting. Rey rubbed the edge of the paper between two fingers, vision briefly obscured by tears. 

The box, when she opened it, held a ring with a plain band and a raw green stone that fit snugly at the base of her right index finger. Even with her callouses and the scarred nicks from her years scavenging, its quiet beauty did not look out of place on her hand- and Rey had the feeling that Ben had chosen it for just that reason. He could have given her something so much more extravagant, after all. 

_He probably wanted to,_ she thought with a fond smile, stroking the stone with one fingertip. _He’d give me a ring worth more than a Star Destroyer, if he thought I’d let him._

Feeling the need for silence and warmth and reflection, she carefully replaced the note and closed the drawer, turning the light off before tucking herself back in.

The ring stayed on her finger. 

\- - -

Canto Bight, in Ben’s estimation, was far more a hive of scum and villainy than any other location in the galaxy, and his own father- a connoisseur of smuggling dens- had more than once given him a list. The veneer of civility simply made the depravity worse. Gilded facades couldn’t erase the despair in the eyes of those who served in the gambling halls, the markets, the brothels- and though Ben had stepped into the latter only once and had not partaken of the services, he was fairly certain that the business in question had not been an outlier. Despair was currency, on Canto Bight. It was entertainment. 

_Rey would hate it._ He strode through ostentatiously decorated halls, surrounded by a gaggle of stormtroopers and the two knights who weren’t on the _Spinebarrel_ (and convincing Rey to accept three of the five had taken effort). She might be amused by the glitter for a short period of time, but the pain behind it would spike her temper. 

“Pining?” Kiren asked in a hissed murmur through his mask, and Ben fought the inclination to scowl. 

“Hush.”

“According to Solah, your lady woke with shadows under her eyes, and now refuses to remove a piece of jewelry that clashes with her outfit.” It was hard to sound smug through a filter, but Kiren managed it. “Rather like the shadows you have carefully concealed with makeup.”

There was nothing wrong with makeup, in Ben’s opinion. Plenty of planets reveled in those of all genders ornamenting themselves with cosmetics, or jewels, or vibrant color. His disinclination to wear anything of the kind was personal preference, and no more- but since ascending to the throne, he had occasionally hidden a sleepless night by means of artifice. 

(“There is nothing more kriffing annoying than being asked if you are tired,” his mother had complained one night, when she had thought Ben hadn’t been paying attention. “And in a tone that suggests you might drop dead within the next five minutes if you don’t hand over your power to someone else, you poor, pitiful thing.”

“Did you tear them to pieces, princess?” his father had asked, handing her a drink with a fond smile. 

“Metaphorically, unfortunately, as opposed to literally.”)

“It’s useful,” he muttered, annoyed by Kiren’s low chuckle. “Stop baiting me in public.”

Still- as they drew closer to their goal, and as those who had gathered cast him flustered looks and edged back from his party- Ben hid a smile at the knowledge that Rey had chosen to wear his gift, keeping that warm pleasure close to his heart. 

“Supreme Leader, we were not expecting you,” one of the coordinators told him hastily after bustling over. “Such a minor meeting… the topic is barely worth your concern-”

“Is that so?” Ben peered down at the man and called to mind the information provided by his council. “You’re here to discuss banking regulations on Canto Bight, as I understand.”

The man swallowed. “Yes.”

“And loopholes in tax laws.”

No answer, to that. 

“Worthwhile topics,” Ben said in a measured, low voice. “I would hear your thoughts on both- unless you take offense at my showing up unannounced?”

The other man’s “Of course not” was given in a wheeze of barely restrained panic.

“How interesting,” Ben continued, “that you chose to be so… discrete… in arranging for such an important meeting.”

Hidden, he could have said. A clutch of conspirators would also have been appropriate, according to the dossier on his datapad. 

“More like a- a gathering of old friends, my lord.”

“Even better.” Looming just as menacingly as he had promised Rey, Ben stared down with unyielding intent. “Introduce me.”

It was not in any way a request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's ring](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451916305832/). 


	15. festivities

“You found it.”

Rey looked up from her cup of heavily creamed caf- and her ring, which kept attracting her attention- at the quiet comment, a little startled by the speaker. “And here I thought he asked Prehta to leave it in my bunk.”

Solah took the seat across from her, shrugging. “He doesn’t know Prehta well enough yet to be sure she won’t peek at private notes.” She glanced down into her own cup, tone casual. “He’s spoken with you about me, I take it?”

“Yes.” Rey felt her face heat slightly at the memory- not at the way Ben had handled it (spoken over a meal with his own cheeks pink in a rather self-deprecating manner, as if a little bemused by the idea that more than one person might ever want him), but at her instinctive and bristling reaction to the the close-knit nature of their relationship at all. He deserved friends, and family, and people he could trust, and she supposed that she did, as well. “I’m sorry. I’m-”

She hesitated, the memory of Poe- with a too-serious look in his eyes that didn’t match the friendly curve of his mouth- teasing her over the way she instinctively barricaded her plate with her arms at every meal. “Feral.”

Rey hadn’t minded it, when the word was initially thrown around. She was what she was, after years of survival: someone who had fought for every mouthful, who had starved and gone to bed wondering if her most recent set of scrapes and cuts would contain the one that finally went septic and took her life. It was only after she realized the connotations that the teasing had begun to sting, and eventually bruise.

“You’ve never been able to depend on anything or anyone, including your next meal.” Solah’s gaze was sharp, but there was a warmth to it that Rey had only ever seen leveled in Ben’s direction. “How often did you come home to raiders? How often were you cheated? You have no reason to trust me, especially when he means more to you than any amount of scrap. I understand why you’re wary- but if I’m going to protect you, I need your trust.” She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, expression utterly serious. “There will come a day when I tell you to run and _need_ you to run, not dally to argue over the order.”

“That might be hard for me.”

“Because it’s not in your nature,” Solah said with a nod of her head. “You confront things, you don’t run from them. Ruling, though, means you have to stay alive- and more often than not, that means staying back while we fight.”

Rey smoothed a hand down her velvet robe (heavy socks and leggings and Ben’s sweater underneath; space was cold and her body still yearned for heat), repressing a sigh even as she acknowledged that Solah was correct. “I’ll do my best.” 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Solah said after a moment. “I don’t want you to change. None of us do.”

“Because Ben likes me this way?” Rey asked with a dry, half-smile, and Solah shook her head. 

“Because the galaxy needs you- _you,_ not a storybook-perfect Jedi or a spoiled heiress like Cela Aphrast.” She took in a breath, and then offered, “I’ll let you search my mind, if you aren’t convinced. Kylo is my commander, my liege, and- now that we have the luxury of being free with our feelings- he’s my surprisingly soft brother. Nothing more.”

“No,” Rey decided, pushing away temptation. “Digging around in your head wouldn’t be a great start to mutual trust.” 

Solah looked away, gazing through the small viewport at the stars beyond, and for several minutes they were both quiet. _Comfortably quiet,_ Rey thought, sipping at her caf. No need to fill the silence, no itch to retreat back to her bunk for privacy. In that moment sharing space with Solah felt almost restful. 

“Rey?” Prehta entered, arms full of red cloth. “We’re nearing Pasaana, and you need to finish dressing.”

“All right.” She stood, nearly empty cup in hand. “It will be nice to see a sun.”

An understatement, really. Real light, real heat- two things she actively missed, and would put up with sand in her boots to experience again. 

“I don’t suppose you have casual armor, do you?” Prehta asked Solah, who gave her a look of polite incredulity. 

“Pardon?”

“Something a little less terrifying than your usual garb. Without helms, maybe.”

Solah’s tone, when she replied, was desert dry. “So that everyone can see our smiling faces?”

“Of course.” Prehta’s tone was equally dry. “And so that fewer people will mark you as targets from half a valley away.”

“We know our job.” To Rey’s surprise, Solah looked almost amused. “And none of us are keen on revealing our faces to the public. We’ve acted as spies before, you know. We can’t gather needed information if someone spots Dehl in the garb of a servant and recognizes him as a Knight.” 

Prehta had the air of someone who had known exactly what answer she would receive, but had still felt the need to ask the question in the first place. “Right.”

“We’ll do our best not to outshine Rey, of course.” There was a flicker of a smile on Solah’s face. “A hard task, given how much we all love being the center of attention.” 

Prehta pressed her lips together, an upward twitch at the corners of her mouth revealing her opinion of that obvious lie. 

“You aren’t afraid of her?” Rey asked a few minutes later, when they were in her bunk and Prehta was brushing out her hair. 

“Solah?” She met Rey’s gaze in the mirror, her own expression a little startled. “No. We talk, sometimes.” She looked back down to deal with a snarl. “Reminds me of my sister, actually.”

“Oh.”

“They’re all a lot less scary than people think.”

Rey repressed a smile of her own. _Good,_ she thought. _You should all get along._ “Few people would agree with you.”

Prehta lifted one shoulder in an absent-minded shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Tilt your head back a little, would you- and I hope you’ve been considering my offer to pierce your ears, because I have some earrings that would look lovely on you.”

“Maybe,” Rey murmured, adjusting herself appropriately. She touched her ring, smoothing a fingertip over the stone. Somewhere- far away, but not too far for the bond- Ben lived and breathed, his mind a steady thrum. “You might as well,” she said after a moment, eyes closed. “After we return to the _Steadfast._”

“I’ll arrange for a healing droid, then, to numb your earlobes-”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” At Prehta’s serious tone, Rey opened her eyes. “Just because you _can_ endure that small amount of pain doesn’t mean you have to,” she huffed. “Tilt your head a little to the right- yes, like that- and kriffing hells, you will have your earlobes numbed.” She began a small braid at Rey’s left temple, muttering to herself. “As if I wouldn’t arrange for such a thing. Or care.”

“Prehta-”

“People do care about you.” She sniffed. “For more than just pay. Honestly.”

Rey blinked, eyes stinging. “You barely know me.”

“I know enough.” Prehta clamped three hairpins between her teeth, her next words muffled. “And you’re going to fashionably enjoy the kriff out of this festival.”

“Right.” Rey rubbed the side of her thumb against the band of her ring, settling further into the plush vanity chair. “I’ll do my best- and thank you.”

\- - -

“Well, the entirety of Canto Bight is now aware of your presence.”

Ben looked up from his datapad at Kiren’s words, the plate containing his half-finished midday meal going largely ignored at his elbow. It was too rich for his tastes (_like everything on this kriffing planet,_ he mentally groused), but it had passed inspection and he needed the fuel. It would be different if Rey were there. Watching her experience new cuisine was entertainment in itself, and he suspected that she would enjoy the small, delicate nests made of battered and fried root vegetables and filled with spiced cream. 

“Are we surprised?” he asked. “Half the planet likely knew before I even reached that meeting.”

Which had been shortened considerably, once he had arrived to spoil their plotting. Hard to do anything _but_ affirm the current state of affairs when he was watching their every move, and though they had all agreed to meet once again in the afternoon Ben doubted that anything of note would happen. 

Except, of course- and he allowed himself a small smile at the thought- his plan to announce the tightening of certain tax laws. A few less guarded individuals had let some interesting tidbits concerning off-world accounts slip as he had watched in silence, and they would all regret that shortly. 

“No, but the substance of the gossip will annoy you.” Kiren took the chair across from him, posture casual. “First, everyone knows about the Aphrasts- not a surprise, since they streamed their own metaphorical demise- and there are a multitude of opinions on their fall.”

“At least a few see this as an excellent opportunity to increase their own social standing,” Olen chimed in, leaning back against the wall. “Expect to see a new crop of would-be lovers giving you inviting looks.”

“A waste of their own time,” Ben muttered.

“Second- and somewhat related- there are whispers that one reason for your arrival here is that you’ve already tired of Rey.” With a wry look Kiren reached into a pocket, pulling out a handful of flimsi cards which he scattered on the table. “Behold, your choice of exclusive brothels.”

With a scowl Ben shoved the nearest away before slumping back in his seat. “Don’t even let me come within sight of those buildings.”

“That will make for a rather erratic route back to the meeting, but fine.”

“What else?” Ben asked, rubbing a hand wearily over his face.

“Lots of snotty talk about Rey’s parentage-”

Kiren didn’t even blink at Ben’s low growl. 

“-whether you actually approve of what she did on Bar’leth, your reasons for being with her at all, whether or not she _is_ the Resistance’s Jedi or if you killed the real one and found a good look-a-like-”

“That would be a lot of work just to give the appearance of unity,” Ben said sourly. 

“A few have suggested that she is a very convincing droid.”

“Kriffing hells.”

“You’ll never get rid of all of the rumors,” Olen said with a shrug. “The one about the droid is fun, though.”

“I’m glad someone’s amused.” Ben glared at what remained of his meal. “I want to leave here as soon as the meeting ends. No appointments with those governing, no petitions-”

He paused. “No petitions from people who just want to wheedle me about tax decreases or offer personal services,” Ben amended. “But even then, I want to be off this planet by the time the sun sets.”

“Understood.” 

Once alone, Ben searched the bond for Rey (she was amused by something, and he wished he knew what) and forced himself to finish his food, though the taste made his stomach churn. Just a few hours more, and he would be gone- on his way to Bespin, and to Rey. 

He avoided thinking on who else awaited his arrival. 

\- - -

The mood on Pasaana was so incredibly different from Jakku that Rey felt buoyed from the moment she stepped off the ship. There was a feel of joy, of celebration, of such intense life that even the sand under her feet and the holocam hovering above (“We’ll edit before releasing the final product,” her chosen member of the PR department had assured her. “Just avoid spilling any secrets.”) couldn’t dim her mood. 

And the sun- it was so _good_ to stand under a sun again. 

“You look like you’re about to skip like a delighted child.” Ylse sounded amused, even through her helm. 

“I’ve missed sunshine.” Rey tilted her head back, eyes closed, simply for the pleasure of feeling the warmth on her face. “After so many years of being nearly baked to death, you’d think I wouldn’t, but…”

“I prefer moonlight, myself. There’s a planet near Endor where the atmosphere turns moonlit nights pink.” Rey sensed more than heard a note of wistfulness. “Of course, you can’t breathe the air, but it certainly _looks_ very pretty.”

A breeze rustled Rey’s light, layered skirts, and she opened her eyes with a grin. “Will you show me, later? On my datapad?”

“Of course.” The other knights surrounded her in a loose circle, but Ylse swaggered at her side as they made their way toward the boisterous crowd. “You probably spin around in circles when it rains, don’t you?”

“I nearly did, the first time I experienced it.” Under the eave of the Falcon, hand outstretched toward Ahch-To drizzle. If she hadn’t been interrupted by the man who now held her heart, she might have given in to the urge. “What was your home world like? Do you remember?”

Ylse was quiet for a moment, then said, “I spent the first ten years of my life on Hosnian Prime.” When Rey hesitated, unsure how to respond, she continued. “That was just a delicious bonus to Snoke, you know. He enjoyed his little tests.”

She didn’t seem to care that the holocam had caught every word. “I’m sorry,” Rey said softly, and Ylse nodded her head. 

“Me, too.” A brief pause, and when she again spoke she seemed to be striving for a lighter tone. “The kites are fun, don’t you think?”

They fluttered high in the sky above, ablaze with color and bold patterns. “Yes,” Rey replied. “They really, really are.”

The crowded mass of revelers barely seemed to notice them as they joined the festival, doing little more than moving a step or two out of their path as they danced energetically. Prehta, who had been lingering behind with Dehl, moved forward to Rey’s other side. “They aren’t missing a beat.” She was grinning, clearly enjoying herself already. “Dehl says they would have started hours ago, and they look like they could dance for hours more.”

“The ritual wine probably helps with that,” Ylse commented dryly. “Don’t drink any; humans process it _very_ differently, and you stripping off all your clothing while shrieking that worms are under your skin would definitely be a bad look.”

Rey mentally set aside her curiosity on that one particular festival offering, and they forged on. Eventually she even largely forgot about the holocam, which was so quiet under all the noise as to be completely unobtrusive. She and Prehta ate small cakes (deemed free of poison, and unlikely to alter their mental state) tasting of unknown fruits and spices, a kind of caramelized glaze on top- and when Dehl asked in a low voice how they were, Rey bought more from the merchant for later, tucking the sack into the bag she carried. 

As Prehta inspected cloth and beads from Pasaana and beyond, a gleam in her eyes, Rey drifted toward another merchant, her attention caught by something unexpected amidst wares largely skewed toward festival gear: pens, tucked in a matching box. 

“Is that a calligraphy set?” 

The merchant- a humanoid woman who looked startlingly like Maz Kanata- nodded with a wide smile. “Picked that up on Naboo.” Rey could see the moment when she recognized exactly who and what she was. “My lady.”

“Rey, please.” She ran a fingertip over the dark, polished wood of one pen, admiring the grain and the way they gleamed in the sunlight. “I’d like to buy them. How much?”

The merchant’s gaze flicked toward Solah and Ylse. “A gift, lady.”

“I’m going to give them as a gift, but only after I buy them,” Rey replied firmly, tone tempered by her grin. “Name your price- and don’t make it too low, because I doubt they were cheap.”

The merchant chuckled, seeming to relax a little. “Like that, are you?” There looked to be the beginnings of respect in her expression. “Let’s talk credits, then.”

It felt like ages since Rey had last haggled- a wearisome but necessary activity for so many years- but for once, as she kept trying to pay more and the merchant laughingly told her to be reasonable, she enjoyed the entire process. 

When she walked away, it was with the set tucked securely in her bag and both parties satisfied. 

\- - -

He recognized the bridging of time and space in the moment before it happened- the hum, the sudden whiff of ozone, the brightening of his own senses- and thanked the stars that he was temporarily alone in the aftermath of his Canto Bight dealings. Rey, in a casual dress of dark red and old gold, burst into being seconds later, a smile on her face as she inclined her head as if listening to someone in front of her. 

_Stars,_ Ben thought with pleasure, the tense set of his shoulders easing for the first time in hours. _She’s lovely._

She spotted him, then, eyes widening slightly. She shifted a little, wrapping her right hand loosely around her left arm to reveal the ring. “It looks perfect on your hand,” he murmured, moving close enough for her to hear but being careful not to touch. The last thing they needed was to accidentally start an uproar over the brief and inexplicable appearance of the Supreme Leader. “I miss you, sweetheart.”

Rey bent her head, a necklace dropping around her neck to settle against her chest. And Ben- who had done as much research on Pasaana and the festival as he could find time for- laughed quietly. 

She took a few steps away, looking as if she were examining something, and in a fond whisper asked, “Why the laugh?” 

“The necklace.” He leaned in closer, catching the scent of her soap and sweat, and brought up his hand to almost but not quite touch her back. “Did they tell you it’s for fertility?”

Judging by the line of her body, she was repressing the instinctive urge to snap her head up and stare directly at him. “Really.”

“Really.”

She considered that, and after a moment the corner of her mouth he could see crooked upward. “Well, I’ll tuck it safely away, then. Just in case.”

He imagined her in their bed, wearing only the necklace and the ring- and thanks to her gift the night before their parting, he thought he knew exactly how that necklace might look against her breasts. “Please do.”

The door ahead of him opened and Kiren strode in, removing his helm in time to reveal one brow arching upward at Ben’s protective posture, at the placement of his hand over seemingly nothing. As if sensing a new distraction the bond fizzled, Rey blinking out of existence but still very much present in the back of his mind. “Yes?” he prompted, straightening and doing his best to hide the grumpy note in his voice at having Rey torn away after barely a minute in her presence. 

“A Rose Tico has asked for an audience.” There was a hint of surprise, of consideration in Kiren’s expression that had nothing to do with how he had found Ben. “From the Resistance.”

Ben’s annoyance fled at the familiar name, one Rey had mentioned more than once- and more importantly, had mentioned positively. “And she just walked right in, risking arrest?”

“She asked for Rey, actually.” A ghost of a sly smile appeared on Kiren’s face. “I said that I would see if she was available to visitors.”

There was no question of sending her away. And no question- yet- of taking her into custody. When Ben entered the room where his unexpected guest paced, she whirled with admirable speed- and the moment she saw him, her face fell. 

“Rose Tico.” He kept his voice level, his bearing no more threatening than was standard. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The inspiration](https://pin.it/2KRsSaD) for Rey's Pasaana outfit (red for the top layer, old gold below).


	16. elsewhere

She stared up at him, this woman that Rey missed, and after a brief, wide-eyed moment straightened her spine and glared with impressive force. “Where’s Rey?”

“Elsewhere.”

Rose Tico did not take kindly to that answer. “In a cell?”

Ben lifted a brow. “Is that where you think I keep her between holo appearances?” He allowed himself one slight smile at the thought. “She’d eviscerate me.”

Rose crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Where is she?”

“Elsewhere,” Ben repeated. “Did you really think that I would tell you where she is? For all I know you’re transmitting to the Resistance right now.” He paused, caught by the look on her face- not guilt, but a kind of grimace nonetheless. “Not that your technology would be able to pass the layers of my security. My knights scanned you for all kinds of things, even if you weren’t aware of it.”

“They weren’t trying to hide the fact.” Rose eyed him warily. “You’re shorter than I thought.”

“I am but a man.” 

She looked him up and down, lips pressed into a flat line, her perusal somehow not stepping over a line so many had stepped over before. “I’ll take your word for it, I suppose.” Rose met his gaze stubbornly. “I want to see Rey. I need to know that she’s well.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she gritted out, “she wasn’t well the last time I saw her.”

“Ah.” The reminder of Rey as he had first found her, feverish and gaunt and barely putting up any kind of fight, piqued Ben’s temper. His voice dropped low, and- needing an outlet for excess energy- he began to walk the outskirts of the room. “And when did you last _see_ her? When your fellow rebels shackled her to an infirmary bed? When they chased her even as she stumbled, feet bleeding?”

Rose swallowed convulsively in the last moment he saw her face before rounding a corner, but she stood stubbornly still, refusing to follow his path with her eyes. 

“Or was it when one of your friends managed to hit her with a blaster bolt as she fled?”

She whirled, real anguish on her face. “What was I _supposed_ to do?” she hissed. “The rumors spread while I was asleep. By the time I woke up she had been condemned five times over, and-”

Rose faltered. “And?” he prompted.

“And I distracted the kriffing guard. I couldn’t get her a key to the cuffs, but I could tase the damn guard.” She moved toward an ostentatiously luxurious couch, and he noticed for the first time that she limped. “I hate this planet,” Rose muttered, looking paler than he liked as she sat down heavily on purple cushions. “I…”

Ben pulled a folding knife out of his robes and held it out to her, doing his best to ignore the way she flinched. “I am not particularly fond of it either,” he said in a grave tone. 

“What’s this for?” she asked in a cautious, low voice. 

“The cushions.” He stepped back once it was in her hand. “Stab those, not me.”

Rose looked at the spread of couch to her right and slowly shook her head. “Someone like me made this,” she muttered, hand fisting hard around the knife and pulling it close to her thigh. “Not their fault.”

“True enough.” Ben stood just out of range, considering her thoughtfully. “They didn’t punish you for taking out the guard?” 

“He didn’t see me, and there weren’t any holo cams.” 

Her gaze skittered briefly away from his, clearly holding _something_ back. “But someone guessed it was you,” he pressed, and- deciding she might speak more freely if he stopped looming over her- sat at an angle to her, in a chair just a little too low for comfort. 

She gave him an annoyed, angry look. “I might have tased a few would-be deserters in the past.”

“That’s the problem with preferring an unusual weapon; others will associate you with it ever more.”

Rose didn’t look as if she appreciated his mild joke. She looked rather offended that he had a sense of humor at all. “Look, will you take me to her, at least?”

“You would give yourself into my custody?” he asked, carefully keeping his voice even. “I’m amazed, Rose Tico.”

“I knew I was doing that the moment I set foot in this building,” she snapped in reply, jumping to her feet with only the set of her mouth indicating that she was in pain. “Finding Rey was- is- more important.”

“Why?” Ben allowed a bitter note to slip into his tone. “So that you can convince her to return to the Resistance? Have they decided to offer her _forgiveness?_” Bitter turned sneering at the thought, and he rose from his seat in one swift move. “For poor, misguided Rey, provided she- what? Return like a penitent and allow herself to be smothered by expectations? Starve on whatever thin, conditional affection they deign to offer?”

Rose’s expression was a blend of indignation and guilt, one hand still clenched around the knife. “And your affection isn’t _conditional?_”

“I love her.” He said the words plainly, not even tempted to sidestep them. “For who she is, not who I think she should be, though perhaps you think me incapable of such a thing.”

“Well, you haven’t showed the galaxy much of a range.” Rose hesitated, then said in a tone so begrudging that he nearly laughed, “Your policies aren’t terrible.”

“How very kind.”

“I mean, they could use some work.”

“Perhaps you’d like to become one of my advisors.” 

He had said it almost as a wry joke, of sorts, but the moment the words were spoken he could almost see just how it would be: Rose Tico, daughter of a planet stripped and shelled by the First Order, seated amid his well-born and wealthy counselors and giving them absolutely no quarter. Sharp-eyed and candid, and a proponent of _exactly_ the kind of policies both Rey and himself wanted to put into place. 

_The other advisors would be in an uproar,_ he thought, not entirely displeased by the idea. 

Rose scoffed, shoving the knife into one of her pockets. Ben supposed that was a slight improvement on matters. “Right, so you can show me off in holos as evidence of how much the First Order has changed, and then ignore any thoughts I might have in actual meetings. Assuming I would ever be allowed into the room at all.”

“Yes, because you would clearly be willing to sit quietly and without complaint in a corner,” he said dryly. “Trying to manage your every move would be almost as difficult as doing the same to Rey, and just as likely to blow up in my face.”

She lifted a brow. “You seem to have a better handle on what Rey is actually like than Poe ever did, at least.” 

Noting the brittle note to her voice as she spoke Poe’s name, Ben said, “Soured on you, has he?”

There was a long pause as her hands cupped her elbows in a hard grip, anger and grief flashing in her eyes. “I have my reasons.”

If Rose Tico were a Force user, the depth of her emotions in that moment would have worried the likes of Luke Skywalker. “Perhaps you’ll tell me, one day- but for now, I hope you have your things with you.” Ben turned, striding toward the door. “We’re leaving within the hour.”

She didn’t attempt to plunge the knife into his back, or even to rush him as he left, but he could feel her behind him, all emotional bruises and determination. 

“She’s our guest,” he told his knights after the door had closed. “At least until we meet Rey on Bespin.”

“In the non-prisoner sense, I’m assuming?” Olen asked.

“Do your best not to injure her if she tries to escape- though I don’t think she will- but otherwise she is to be treated with courtesy. Once we’re on board, have one of the med droids treat her injuries.” Ben paused, then added, “And she’s allowed to keep the knife.”

“She didn’t have a knife when she entered that room,” Kiren noted, looking more amused than anything else. 

“I gave it to her.”

“You realize that’s not how it works, right?”

Ben lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “She’ll be more comfortable with a weapon in hand.”

\- - -

Above, the sun was setting. “Do we have anyone left to talk to?” Rey asked Solah quietly, unsure if she were required to put in a more official performance than she had thus far. “There aren’t any governors or princes here, are there?”

“No, this is a very casual outing.” Solah nodded a greeting at a passing squadron of stormtroopers. “If you’re tiring, it would be perfectly acceptable to return to the ship and leave.”

“I am, a little.” Rey slid a glance at Prehta, who- after one glass of a brew deemed safe if intoxicating- was smiling at the whirl of color around them, looking a little glazed. The same drink had not hit Rey with the same force, which she appreciated. “I think I’m ready to go.”

“We’ll make our way back to the ship, then.” Solah made a quick hand signal to the other knights, who immediately turned the group in the direction of the _Spinebarrel._

_Very few care we’re here,_ Rey thought for not the first time as they wound their way through dancers and impromptu merchant stalls. _We’re a blip, for most of them- we get in their way, use them as a backdrop in our holo._

They began to skirt a crowd of children playing what looked like a lawless game of tag, only to have them dart through their group, laughing as they tangled them in their game. Two ran a tight circle around Rey, plucking at her skirts a few times with impish glee. For a moment Rey thought it was entirely in play, until nagging memory surfaced: being sent out by Plutt with a horde of other orphaned children, instructed to distract and meddle while the more sure-fingered picked pockets. Her only pocket was cleverly hidden in the front of her waistband, so she doubted they would get anything from her, but they might relieve Prehta of the credits she carried. 

_Not that we’re thin on credits._ Rey didn’t particularly care if the children stole those, if that was what they were up to, though she suspected Prehta would find the experience unnerving.

Solah stood still as stone a few steps ahead, one gloved hand on her weapon. “You need to move on,” she said in a measured, tense voice, a hiss from the filter underlying the words. The children scattered with high-pitched laughter, disappearing into a nearby group of dancers. “Come,” Solah said grimly, scanning their surroundings. “Most children aren’t keen to swarm heavily-armed warriors of their own volition.”

“Paid,” Rey agreed quietly, reaching out to snag Prehta’s hand and pull her onward. “I don’t think I’m missing anything.”

“I’m more worried they planted a tracking chip on you when they grabbed your clothing. Every stitch of that will have to be searched before we leave, up to and including ripping out the seams.”

Prehta made an outraged noise. “That outfit was a labor of love.”

Ylse snorted, the sound odd through her helm. “You cannot hold your liquor.”

“It does make me feel kind of… fluttery,” Prehta replied, sounding rather perplexed by that fact, and stumbled, nearly pulling Rey off balance. “I think,” she said slowly, swaying where she stood, “that something stung me back there.”

Solah swore in a language Rey had never heard, the words sharp and indisputably profane. “Grab her,” she snapped to Dehl, who was already on the move. “Rey, did you feel a prick?”

“No.” Rey took stock of herself, unclipping her lightsaber from her belt. A bit of remaining buzz from the brew, but even that was draining rapidly away as adrenaline surged through her body. “I can move.”

Their polite weave turned to a brisk march, the crowd picking up on the change on their mood and parting swiftly before them. “Is the sky spinning?” Prehta asked from Dehl’s arms, head lolling on his shoulder. 

“Thankfully, no,” Rey replied, trying to keep her voice even. “Are you nauseated?”

“No,” Prehta replied after a long pause. “Sleepy.”

“Try to stay awake, all right?” A woman Rey had talked with earlier that day watched them pass with unnatural focus. “Stay with us, Prehta.”

Solah was talking in a low voice into her comm, instructing Mitaka to have the ship ready to depart the moment they were aboard.

“He’s cute,” Prehta said with a giddy hum. “Dop. I’d like to get him between the sheets.”

Ylse gave one short laugh, and Rey felt from her a burst of genuine concern. “I do hope you get your chance. He could use some rumpling.”

“Uh huh.” Prehta giggled as Dehl quickened his pace, taking point on the group. “Looks like a cuddler.”

They had nearly reached the _Spinebarrel_ when a scream ripped from the crowd behind them, followed by drunken-sounding shouts and the sound of a scuffle. Rey looked over her shoulder even as she moved on, searching for the source- and nearly fell flat on her face when the ground rippled beneath her, an odd tugging at the right side of her skirts. “Solah-”

The sand beneath her feet drained away, and she fell into shadow and subterranean cold. 

\- - - 

Ben made Rose tea with his own hands (_yet another lesson I learned from my mother,_ he had thought while measuring the leaves, remembering the many senators and dignitaries who had been served tea by Leia Organa-Solo as both sides pretended to like the other), once they were aboard and the med droid had seen to her ankle. Even after watching him perform every step she still regarded the cup and the plate of thin cookies with narrow-eyed suspicion, touching neither of them. 

“How did you injure yourself?” he asked, settling across the table with his own small cup.

_Should have used the thicker mugs,_ he mused as he sipped the spicy blend, delicate ceramic dwarfed by his hand. Rose Tico looked as if she would have preferred the comfort of having something hefty to chuck at his head.

“None of your business,” she said stiffly. 

“No,” he agreed. “But as my guest-”

“Prisoner.”

“-_guest,_ I’m a little concerned that the droid’s conclusion was that you were likely injured by someone _kicking_ you.”

Rose sat in stubborn silence, picking up a cookie only to crumble it to pieces.

“Was it Dameron?”

“It was an _accident,_” she gritted out. “I-”

She huffed a breath, slumping back in her seat. He suspected she was holding on to the knife beneath the table’s edge, and that gave him pause- but before he could move his chair back, a chill swept through him for no reason he could discern. 

_Rey._

He stood quickly, nearly knocking his knees against the table. Ignoring whatever threat his guest might offer, he cast his mind toward the beacon that was Rey, and found her alive but unresponsive. Ben grabbed for his comm, barely noticing the way Rose stiffened at the sudden movement. “Solah?” Precious seconds slipped away. “Solah, where-”

“Gone.” The word might as well have been a physical blow. “Pulled right into one of the kriffing tunnels under the festival grounds,” Solah snarled against a background of other voices, other sounds. “I’m about to descend with the others; we’ll find her.”

“Tunnels?” he heard Rose ask sharply even as he clenched his hand into a fist, nails cutting into his palm with a mind-clearing burst of pain. 

“I’m on my way,” he snapped, thinking of routes and Rey and her limbs striking hard rock in a fall. _Nearly two standard days from Pasaana._ Sickening fear curled in his belly as he considered who might have snatched her- because it _had_ to have been planned. The Aki-Aki inspected the tunnels before every festival to make sure the ground above would hold weight; that was a known fact. She-

“_Hey._” Rose grabbed hold of his tunic, wrenching him down to her level with surprising strength. She didn’t seem to care that his initial, instinctual response to being manhandled was a fierce glare and a growl. “Tunnels,” she demanded. “Where?”

“_Pasaana._”

She paled, lips thinning. “The last time I saw Finn,” she said, voice utterly steady, “he said that when I was ready, I would find them on Pasaana.”

“Ready for what?” Ben asked with deadly calm.

“When I was ready to get over my little _snit,_” she bit out. “Because that would take no time at all, he felt.” 

“He knew you took out the guard.”

“I hit him with a taser once when he tried to defect; he never forgot it.”

There was pain, there, that lay even deeper than betrayal between two acquaintances, or even casual friends. She loved the traitor, in one way or another… and while he had been open to accepting the Finn Rey considered a friend, he was rethinking that position. “He agreed with imprisoning Rey?”

Rose let go of his tunic, holding her ground. “He was with the General, off-world. The holo shook him, I think.” 

“What holo?”

She gave him a long look, a humorless smile twisting her mouth. “Rey. She was sick, and rambling with fever, and the medic took a holo.” Rose paused, then said flatly, “She loves you, you know. She begged for you to come for her- or she begged for Ben, and when the medic asked who that was, she said ‘Kylo Ren’.”

Ben stared down at her, feeling a tightness in his chest, a shortness of breath at the idea Rey had called for him without answer. “They condemned her over that alone?”

“Poe said your birth name was Ben.” Rose lifted a brow, expression utterly serious. “He said he knew you, before.”

“Did he tell you how?”

“No.”

He stepped away, toward the door (_I have to inform the crew; we have to change our route_). “Organa-Solo,” Ben said shortly, slapping his bleeding palm down on the controls. “When Poe knew me as a child, my name was Ben Organa-Solo.”


	17. hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm behind on replying to comments, but just know that they have been so incredibly kind and enthusiastic and I am so grateful to you all.

“Was that a joke?”

“Was what a joke?” Ben replied shortly, hands again clenched into fists as he mentally tugged at the bond, trying to force a bridging of minds. He might not be able to snatch Rey away from wherever she was-

_Though we’ve never tried; maybe-_

“You’re the General’s son?”

“She’s not particularly proud of that fact, either.” 

_Two days is too long,_ he thought with an edge of desperation. But Solah and the others would find her, surely. They might not share a bond with Rey, but they knew how to track a-

“She’s going to be all right.”

His gaze snapped to Rose, who watched him with an expression that almost- almost- looked sympathetic. “You know she will,” Rose continued. “By the time we get there she’ll have pounded Poe into the dirt with, I don’t know, a wash pole or something really utilitarian. Assuming he is behind this.”

That would be just like Rey, to get herself out of trouble as he rushed his way across the galaxy. “How did you get into my quarters?” Ben asked, finally realizing exactly where they were.

“Walked in right behind you after you finished roaring orders at your crew.” She gestured toward his hand. “Are you going to take care of that, or is this one of those dark-sider pain things they make so much about in trashy holos?”

He couldn’t quite understand this shift of hers, from stubbornly closemouthed to sudden, sharp interest. Perhaps she was lulling him into complacency before attempting to sink the knife into one of his kidneys. 

“I’m guessing Rey wouldn’t be very pleased if you showed up on Pasaana with festering wounds on your palm.” 

“I’ll take care of it later.”

“Right.” Her gaze slipped behind him, one brow arching upward. “I’m also guessing that you stole that nightgown from her closet, because it doesn’t look like your size.”

Ben felt a tic right beneath one eye. It had been impulse, to steal the green, beribboned gown before a droid could carry it away to be cleaned. _Like her stealing my sweater,_ he had tried to justify to himself, though fully aware that making off with a garment that smelled of Rey’s soap and, in one spot, faintly of musk was rather different from her snatching something he had worn while issuing orders from a Cloud City hotel suite. 

But it had been soothing, to have a bit of her so close. Soothing to smooth the fabric of the bodice over his pillow and feel it cool against his cheek as he drifted to sleep. 

And if he had touched himself while remembering how it had felt to have Rey grind against his thigh in that gown, her nipple hard against his tongue, that was nobody’s business but his own. 

“What do you want?” he asked in growled mutter, shoving the memory aside. 

“I want to help, and since you apparently refuse to take care of your own kriffing self that seems like a good place to start. We’re two days from Pasaana; you can’t spend the entire time storming through the halls, wasting away as you consider your revenge. Also,” she said after a slight pause, tone begrudging, “you care. About Rey.” She glanced at the spill of green again, then to where a note rested on his desk, Rey’s name in Aurebesh on the folded paper. “And I care about Rey, so we currently have a common cause.”

Ben opened his mouth to respond, not even knowing what he intended to say, and then froze. Rey had blipped out of existence, her presence in his mind torn away with sudden and fierce savagery. He sat heavily on the bed, one hand closing blindly around smooth ribbons, tasting ash and coppery panic and- 

“What is it?” he heard Rose ask in quick staccato. “Kylo?”

He couldn’t answer. She could unfold the knife with slow deliberation and he would still continue to sit there, passively accepting his fate as his heart threatened to burst from his chest. 

“Ben?”

It was his birth name that jarred him into meeting Rose Tico’s eyes. “She’s gone.”

For a long moment she barely seemed to breathe, then shook her head quickly. “No.”

“Yes.” Rey, so warm and so prickly and so absolutely necessary.

“She’s worth more to them alive than dead; think logically.”

“I _think_ that one moment she burned bright and the next she was gone,” he snapped as he shot to his feet, anger replacing despair. 

“And I _know_ that there are ways of severing someone from the Force.” Rose shoved him back onto the bed, her statement surprising him enough that he actually stayed put. “Did you think the Resistance wouldn’t have something lying around in case they ever managed to catch you?” She hesitated, staring down at him. “You really do have a link to Rey.”

“How-”

“I thought Poe was exaggerating.” Her lips flattened into a thin line, tone turning grim. “If you can’t feel her, you can’t find her, and they don’t want you finding her. They also don’t want her pulling a wall down on their heads, or throwing them off a cliff with a flick of her wrist. She’s alive.” 

“Right,” he whispered, grabbing hold of the slim hope she offered with everything he had. 

“So you’re going to sit there while I put bacta on those cuts, and then-”

She briefly faltered. “Then I’ll tell you what little I know about Pasaana.”

\- - -

_She was a child, and falling in a Star Destroyer. Scraped hands grabbed desperately at a metal beam, joints straining as her body stopped and swung, grasp tenuous. Tears slid down her cheeks, sweat dampened her palms, and some unknown, fierce strength pulled her up to safety._

_She was bleeding for the first time, rags stuffed into the crotch of her threadbare leggings, and a portion of ship-deck broke underneath her feet. She should have died, pierced by the jagged metal below- but instead she landed on a sturdy bit of catwalk next to an intact ladder and dragged herself home, shaking, hungry, and wracked with cramps. _

_She was backed into a corner by two drunk off-worlders who had taken less than kindly to her refusal to lay on her back in exchange for a handful of protein bars, and with one swing of her staff blew them back in a blur that she had blamed on dehydration. _

_She was falling through sand, lightsaber clenched in her fist, and never seemed to land._

\- - -

She surfaced gradually, feeling scraped clean and bitterly alone. _Eyes closed,_ she instructed herself, the two words coming slow. _Until I can run._

“-but you have to admit she _looks_ better,” Rey heard a familiar voice say. 

“Making her look all polished is in his best interest.”

“What I’m saying is that she was so- so pale, when I saw her last, and now-”

“Look.” Coaxing. Casually dismissive. “She got sick. Life on the run is hard; it happens. We’ll keep a better eye on her, from now on.”

“_Poe,_” a new voice hissed, and recognition wormed its way into her consciousness: Kaydel. “You said we were ransoming her for the spies caught on Coruscant, not using her as some sort of- of puppet mouthpiece.”

“I’ve laid the groundwork-”

“You’ve laid kriffing _shit,_” she spat in reply, and Rey felt a flicker of sleepy, bitter amusement. “No one who knows Rey would believe that she’s the frail creature you made her out to be. I once saw her wade into a squadron of stormtroopers and knock them all out with a nearby tree branch, you can’t _possibly_ think-”

“I think only a handful of people know what she’s like, and the majority of the galaxy like a good story.” 

There was a long, long silence, and then a hand grasped her shoulder. “I can see through that act, by the way,” Poe said in that friendly, intimate tone she knew so well. “Wouldn’t you like something to eat, Rey?”

She opened her eyes to find herself in a cramped room, Poe and Kaydel and Finn clustered around her. “I’m going to tear off your balls,” she told Poe in a voice that croaked, and he laughed. If she hadn’t felt as insubstantial as a light breeze, she would have punched him in the throat for that alone. 

“Rey,” Finn began quietly, and she shook her head so quickly her vision blurred.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

_I shouldn’t feel this weak,_ Rey thought with burgeoning, well-hidden panic as she forced herself to sit up on her thin pallet. _I’m not injured, other than scrapes and bruises- they must have stopped my fall, done-_

The feel of metal banding one wrist belatedly drew her attention. Not a pair of cuffs, not one of Prehta’s (_stars, Prehta_) lovely bracelets. Dark, matte metal, and snug enough she couldn’t simply slip it off over her hand. “What’s this?”

“Force dampener,” Poe said cheerfully, striding away to rummage through a bag- _her_ bag- coming up with the cakes she had bought earlier. “Are these good? I spotted them earlier and they looked good.”

No wonder the part of her mind where Ben usually lived was so cold, so empty. She had gotten used to his quiet, reassuring presence- but they wouldn’t care about that, and if they didn’t know about the bond she had no intention of enlightening them. “What did you do to Prehta?”

“Who?”

“She was with me.” Rey blinked, trying to remember if she had ever felt so hollow. “What did you inject her with?”

She barely caught Finn’s guilty grimace before he turned away. “Poe,” he muttered, and was cut off. 

“That was for you, actually.” Poe plopped down onto a stool beside her, cake in hand that he immediately broke in half. “Must not have given those kids a good description.”

“Will it hurt her?”

For a moment, Poe actually looked hurt. “Of course not. Just a sedative, that’s all.” He held out half of the cake to her, triggering a dilemma her mind was almost too slow to process: to take, or not. She needed the nutrients, the sugar, but she had been unconscious, and he might have done something, during that time. 

After a long, drawn out moment he shrugged and ate both halves, making her feel irrationally irritated at her own caution. “So,” he said. “I get it. He’s big and weirdly handsome, now that he’s gotten rid of the mask, and you both have the Force, so-”

“I love him.”

The declaration- in an uneven, brittle voice that Rey regretted even as she knew that she wasn’t at her best- briefly silenced Poe and inspired wide-eyed gazes in the other two. “Not that you care or believe me,” she continued bitterly. “You don’t know him.”

“Neither do you,” Poe said once he regained his equilibrium, expression stormy. “He’s in your head, Rey. He can make you feel whatever he wants.”

She felt a trickle of ice down her spine. “What are you talking about?”

“The bond.” He waved a hand, grimacing. “You said it yourself, when you were sick- that you have a bond with him, and see him when he isn’t there.”

“That-”

“Is a major security issue, and probably why we’ve been in losing ground ever since he became Supreme Leader. Not that it’s your fault,” he added quickly. “I get that it was some kind of Sith technique you couldn’t counter-”

“If it’s not my fault, then why did someone try to shoot me?” she interrupted, sitting up straighter. “If it’s not my fault then why did they call me a traitor?”

“You _know_ how many people we’ve lost over the last year,” he retorted. “And you were running, Rey. You have to understand how guilty that made you look.”

Rey resisted the urge to touch the ring she still wore, though she wanted the bit of comfort it would provide. “Because no one has ever run out of fear, particularly when they don’t know what crime they’ve committed,” she said sarcastically. “Have you even been paying attention? You barely gave me a chance to breathe, let alone watch the holos, but his policies-”

“Were a trick,” Poe snapped. “Just because he says the right things and feeds you something other than black-market rations-”

“His policies are _real,_ and now they’re mine. Do you really think I’m such an idiot? You tell the galaxy I’m your sacred warrior, heavily imply I’m the key to taking down the First Order, then claim I’m a sheltered, misled child-”

“Rey-”

“Do you think I’m so easily controlled? So round-heeled over regular meals?” she spat at him. “My belly could have been full on Jakku from a _very_ young age, if that were the case. Literally and figuratively, I suppose, though I imagine that if Plutt had sold me to passing pilots on a regular basis he would have at least invested in my longevity by giving me _birth control._”

Both Finn and Kaydel looked varying degrees of confused and aghast by that unexpected jab, but Poe just blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“The medics never even offered it to me, though I’ve been informed since that it’s standard.” Rey gave Kaydel a sharp look. “Well?”

Kaydel opened her mouth, closed it, then offered with dawning comprehension, “Yes? Declining it involves more forms than not.”

“We were at war; things slid through the cracks. It’s not like I went to the medics and told them not to waste an implant on you.” Poe stood, retrieving the other cakes with an aggrieved expression. “Forgive me if I thought we had more important things to do than getting the last Jedi in the galaxy laid. If I had known you were interested in that, we probably could have put together a roster-”

Rey stood too quickly, balance off-kilter. Finn caught her arm, both steadying her and holding her back- but he couldn’t do anything about Kaydel, who was shouting something in a dialect of Basic that Rey only half understood. She didn’t appreciate the implications of Poe’s comment, that much was clear, no matter what she thought of Rey. “Let go of me,” Rey hissed at Finn as Kaydel backed Poe into a corner, the latter’s expression more wary than amused (though the little amusement there clearly infuriated Kaydel all the more). “I’m leaving.”

“To go where?” he hissed back, expression taut with frustration. “Back to him?”

“Yes.” 

“Rey.” His concern was obvious, and if she hadn’t felt so angry, so unbalanced, so _off_ that alone might have softened her. “He’s _Kylo Ren._ I once saw him order the slaughter of an entire village- on Jakku, no less, and-”

“Do you know how many stormtroopers I’ve killed over the last year?” Rey knew, had kept count of every single faceless one. “How many I’ve cut down, and you’ve shot, who could have had actual lives?”

He flinched. “Rey.”

“We’ve all,” she said in a low voice, throat tight and raw, “done terrible, terrible things.”

“Rey-”

“What makes us any different from him?”

Finn flashed her a hard look. “I’ve never killed my father, for one.”

“Are you sure?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, sharp-edged and harsh. He abruptly let go of her arm, taking a step back with wide, horrified eyes. “I-”

“_Kriff, Kaydel._” 

Rey turned her head, catching sight of Poe bent forward, Kaydel shaking out her right hand with a grim expression. “And don’t you even _dare_ mention court-martial,” she snapped as he straightened, blood running from his nose to drip onto his shirt. “We barely have enough people left to do a supply run; you can’t afford to lose me.” For a moment she met Rey’s gaze, a conflicted shadow crossing her face, and then she was gone. 

“Finn,” Poe said after long, unbearable seconds, “come on.” He scooped up Rey’s bag, her sandals, her lightsaber, and jerked his head toward the door. “She’ll understand eventually.”

“Me, or Kaydel?” Rey asked in an acidic tone, and received no reply. “I want my things.”

“I don’t know,” Poe said in a muffled voice, pressing a handkerchief- hers, she realized with a furious hitch of breath, recognizing Prehta’s handiwork- against his nose. “You might have to earn them back, after we get that monster out of your head.”

When she lunged forward with a snarl she slipped on the blankets, sending herself sprawling onto the floor. Feeling a burst of searing, embarrassed hatred she slammed the cuff against durasteel as the door ground shut and locked, gritting her teeth against the ache that traveled up her arm. 

“I don’t have to earn kriffing shit,” she spat to the empty room, and began to plan. 

\- - -

He could hear them talking as he scrupulously cleaned his lightsaber (because he had to have something to do, because he couldn’t take the chance that anything less than perfect order would stand between him and Rey’s safety), though they were down a hall, doors open between. 

“Are you going to try to assassinate him?” 

“That would be pretty stupid,” Rose replied flatly. “Going to take off that mask?”

A pause. “You’re no longer loyal to the Resistance?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

There was a faint sound: the hiss of forced air escaping a helm as it was removed. “You’re the one who bit Hux, aren’t you?” Kiren asked. “There’s nothing in that food, if that’s what has you so hesitant. You’re a guest.”

“Huh.” Another pause, the clink of spoon against bowl. “And yes.”

“He’s still angry about that.”

“Good friend of yours, is he?”

“I would love to shove him out an airlock.”

“One less smarmy bantha sniffer in the galaxy.”

“Exactly.”

There was nothing more Ben could do for his lightsaber, save take it to pieces and put it back together again. He resisted the urge even as he thought _I could build something better, I could build something stable._ Maybe he would, eventually. He knew how. 

“If it is Poe- if we catch him- can I punch him first?” he heard Rose ask, followed by a short, surprised laugh from his knight. 

“Why?”

“Because my sister didn’t have to die. Not like that.” 

“Beat Kylo to him,” Kiren said after a moment, sounding utterly serious, “and you can get in as many blows as you please.”


	18. bottled up

It didn’t take Rey long to figure out where she was- or to be more specific, to figure out what she was in. The odd angles, the smooth durasteel walls, the small fresher behind a curtain in the corner: this was a smuggler’s cache, and one that had been modified to carry living cargo.

“Charming,” she muttered, pushing away fear and trying not to speculate on how many had been held in this room before her, and what might have happened to them at journey’s end. Easier to take thorough stock of everything the room held that wasn’t bolted down (the pallet, a container of water, the stool, the curtain, herself) and what she carried on her own body that hadn’t yet been taken away (the ring, her dirty and torn clothing, nine hairpins, and a credit chip in her pocket). 

It wasn’t an encouraging list, she decided, but she had done with less before. 

“When did you ally with slavers?” she asked Finn when he entered some time later with a plate of polystarch bread and an unrecognizable vegetable. “How many of these little cells did they carve into the guts of this ship?”

“They weren’t slavers,” he insisted, though his jaw was clearly clenched. “And we only spoke with them long enough to purchase it.”

“Still slavers. Or bounty hunters.” She didn’t take the plate when he held it out to her, instead crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest. “Everything behind that curtain was installed years ago; you can tell just by looking.”

His knuckles tightened around the rim of the plate. “It’s just a bunk, Rey.”

“Bunks don’t require special authorization to leave.” And maybe there was only one hidden room, but Rey had heard enough muttered stories in Niima Outpost to know that the unwary young were sometimes snatched and locked away in cells just like this, never seeing stars or sun again until the crew decided to pick up someone new and fresh. There had been that girl, when Rey was eight, who had wandered out of the port and into the desert, her face blank and belly rounded…

No one had stopped her. Rey had dreamed of those glazed eyes for weeks, and for months afterward had avoided scavenging in the direction those bare feet had walked. 

Finn placed the plate on the stool, averting his gaze. “This is just short term.”

“Until I come to my senses, I know,” she said bitterly. “This plan is full of holes, Finn. Ben isn’t manipulating me, and I won’t change my mind and go back to being Poe’s pet Jedi.”

“Rey-”

“The Resistance is dead,” Rey stated flatly, not taking a step toward the food even as her stomach audibly growled. “I won’t waste my energy attempting to resurrect it.”

“Because you have the illusion of real power, now?” Finn asked, giving her a stricken look. “Rey,” he said in a soft, choked voice, “I spent my entire life in the First Order. You’ve only been there a few weeks. You have no idea what it’s really like.”

Remembered pain was evident in the set of his shoulders, his unsteady breathing, the way his fingertips twitched. Rey had grown so used to good-humored, confident Finn that the sight of him so vulnerable dulled the edges of her temper. “Perhaps not under Snoke,” she agreed quietly. “But Ben is different.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“Stormtroopers are allowed to choose names, now. Leave service. Have relationships. Eat real food. I know at least some of that has been covered in holos.” Rey took two cautious steps toward him, stopping when he shook his head. “I could show you the changes. I could take you to the creches; you could help-”

Earnest pain shifted to panicked anger as he jerked back. “I will _never,_” he hissed, “allow the First Order to have any kind of control over me ever again.”

_Oh._

_Here we are, then,_ she thought, throat tightening painfully. Her first real friend, placing himself on the other side of an unbridgeable divide- and she understood why. She bore the same scars, after all, even if hers had come from the Resistance and his the First Order. 

_Neither of us can go back._

“Then let me go.” She barely managed to speak without a betraying crack slipping into her voice. “Make a home for yourself. Figure out what kind of life you want to live. No one will hunt you down.” Ben wouldn’t like that promise, but he would leave Finn alone, if she asked. “Please.”

He looked tempted. She could almost see him considering opening the door, shepherding her down the corridor to a hiding spot- but then he shook his head with a quiet “You can’t promise that,” and left.

She settled on her pallet, feeling bruised, and it was a long, long time before she could force herself to swallow the food bite by tasteless bite. 

\- - -

“The news has spread like Yavin Pox,” Cass said with practiced calm when she contacted him a day into his journey. Her face, via the holo, looked as unruffled as ever. “Foolish, on their part- many who find your relationship endearing have turned against the Resistance for that alone.”

“Technically, we don’t know that it was the Resistance,” Ben replied, keeping his own voice even as his hands clenched around the arms of his chair. 

“If they would like to correct our public statement on the matter, they are free to do so.” She paused briefly, expression softening. “How are you?”

Impossible, to tell via holo if that concern were real. _You suggested Pasaana,_ he wanted to say, the memory like a ghost in the back of his mind. Saying it aloud, though- away from the fleet, with only his knights and the crews of two ships at his back- might very well be his undoing. She could steal the entire fleet, if she had Hux or Pryde or both in thrall. She could negate his credentials, subvert the stormtroopers on his ship, set the entire galaxy against them. 

So he wouldn’t ask, over holo. He would wait until they were in the same room, and then- and only then- would he settle in to discover exactly why Cass had brought up that cursed planet in the first place. 

“She is well.” Cass didn’t even blink at his pronouncement. “And when my lady is well, so am I.”

“Spoken like a lover,” she said indulgently, as if she had no clue that Rey’s Force signature had been utterly erased. 

And maybe she didn’t, he acknowledged bitterly to himself. “She is my future wife.”

A slow smile curved her mouth, and _oh,_ she reminded Ben of his mother with that one action. “It’s best, when partners love and balance each other. I look forward to congratulating you both on your wedding day.”

Ben couldn’t even look forward to that day, not yet (though he wanted the ring on Rey’s finger, the sight of her in whatever finery her stylist created, the surety of marital ties; he craved the entire state of mind). He would take Rey recovered, first: wounds healed, her stomach full, and safely asleep in their bed. 

Cass blinked. They were dancing around Rey’s absence and a festival that had dropped from his advisor’s own lips, and he saw in that moment that they were both very aware of that fact. “The day will come,” she murmured. “What are your orders, my lord?”

“Hold steady.” He wore his own false calm as a mask, never once betraying the inner turmoil that had him prowling the corridors of his ship at all hours, glowering at anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. “And if the Resistance issues an official statement, let me know immediately.”

She was quiet for a moment, seeming to consider him seriously. “If they confirm their involvement, will we be resuming our former hostilities against them?”

No longer treating them as mere pests, to be dealt with only when necessary, but intentionally sought out and squashed- and Ben wanted to snarl _yes._ Instead, he took in a deep breath and replied, “Perhaps.” 

He would wait, and discuss the matter with Rey- but if his current journey ended with only a lifeless body to bury, he knew exactly what his answer would be. 

\- - -

The credit chip snapped when Rey attempted to use it as a makeshift screwdriver on the vent grate, which- while unsurprising- still inspired a stream of curses. Her bare fingers, quickly scraped and battered, had no better luck with the tiny screws. 

She slept, when her body demanded she do so, and lost five hairpins trying to pick the lock on her cuff before making the decision to ration the last four.

She ran her scabbing fingertips over every inch of the walls, searching for potential weak spots.

She ripped strips from her already torn skirt, grimly imagining surprising Poe from behind and cinching them around his neck. 

Finally- when she was considering another few hours of sleep, and after a second meal delivered by a stubbornly silent Finn, who was careful not to turn his back on her- a new visitor arrived.

“Here.” Kaydel held out a stack of clothing, meeting Rey’s gaze without flinching. “We’re not the same size, but they’re clean and in one piece, at least.”

Rey accepted the clothes, noting the faded, whimsical flower patch on one knee of the trousers. Nothing she had seen Kaydel wear before, and- she suspected- nothing picked up recently. A sentimental holdover from her old life, Rey guessed, carted from hidden base to hidden base and only now brought into the light. _A silent apology, perhaps,_ she thought, catching the quick, wistful look in Kaydel’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“Do you need more food? Water?” 

“No.” 

Kaydel nodded, pleating the hem of her tunic with sharp, anxious movements. “I could find another blanket, if you’re cold.”

“It is a little chilly in here,” Rey conceded, glad that what appeared to be a sweater was included in the stack. “I dressed for a desert festival, not deep space.” She watched Kaydel closely. “I suppose I should start carrying around an extra layer, in case I’m ever abducted again.” 

A faint wash of pink colored Kaydel’s cheeks. 

“Leia could have just _asked_ to meet with me, you know,” Rey continued, taking a gamble that they were unaware of Leia’s current location and plans. “Instead of staging something so… dramatic. Though perhaps the drama was Poe’s idea, and not hers.” Unless Leia’s presence on Bespin was a diversion, which might be the case. “Will I be able to speak with her soon?” 

Pink deepened to a painful, vibrant red, and Kaydel muttered, “No.”

“Really.” Rey couldn’t quite veil the mocking note that slipped into her voice. “I thought she’d be Poe’s first stop.”

“The General is-”

Kaydel hesitated, then gritted out, “The General is seeing to other matters.”

“She’s not with the Resistance anymore, is she?” 

Silence fell between them, Kaydel’s gaze skittering away. 

“But that’s not common knowledge, because the Resistance can’t afford for it to be,” Rey guessed grimly. “Are you going to abduct her, too? Does Poe have any plans to rebuild the Resistance that _don’t_ involve shoving people into cells?”

Kaydel abruptly stepped forward, grabbing Rey’s arm and tugging her toward the back wall. “Listen,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the shut door, “this is my last mission before I leave, and I would have left before if it weren’t for Jess.”

Rey frowned, trying to remember anyone by that name. “Pava?” she asked after a moment in a hushed voice, and received an immediate nod of confirmation. “She was caught on Coruscant?”

“Along with two others.” 

“I could fix that.” When Kaydel hesitated, Rey quickly continued. “Get me to a comm. I’ll order their release, and after we get proof that they’ve safely left Coruscant you can drop me somewhere planetside.”

“There’s a problem with that little plan,” Kaydel muttered. “Poe won’t just throw up his hands and give in if I let you out. He’ll stun you again without a qualm. And me.”

“Not if I grab him first.” 

“He’s the only one who knows how to get that cuff off of you.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Rey scoffed, sounding more confident than she necessarily felt. There was always a chance that he would drop her with a well-timed shot, but it was a risk she had to take. “I survived for over a decade on Jakku without the Force; I think I can take down one cocky pilot.”

“And Finn?”

Rey hesitated, that ache building again in her throat. “If I have to.”

They exchanged measuring looks. “I need to think about it,” Kaydel said finally, words dropping reluctantly from her tongue. “I’m not eager to ally myself with the First Order, even…”

“Even temporarily?” Rey held her ground. “Even with me?”

They had never been friends. They had largely worked in different areas, eaten on different shifts, and Rey’s free time had been practically nonexistent. They had, however, been friendly. 

“I’ll get that blanket,” Kaydel murmured. “And I’ll let you know.”

_It’s an improvement,_ Rey told herself as she dressed in Kaydel’s offerings, transferring hairpins and chip halves and makeshift bonds to her new pockets, and fastening her own belt around her waist. _She may say yes._

Or maybe Poe would come back alone, and she would get a chance to throttle him. 

_Which,_ she mused, annoyed, _is probably why he hasn’t made his own visit. He knows me that well, at least._

Really, Kaydel and Finn were lucky that she wanted them to continue breathing. 

\- - -

“No more deserts.”

“What?”

Ben hadn’t meant for Rose to hear- wasn’t even sure why she insisted on tailing after him in the first place, when he first set foot on Pasaana- but clarified nonetheless. “Rey shouldn’t have to visit deserts,” he bit out, thoroughly irritated with the barren valley ahead of him that had hosted so many beings just days before. Remnants of brightly colored fabric, trodden under countless feet, peeked out from the packed earth and grit at irregular intervals. “No more sand. No more-”

He broke off, catching the unimpressed expression on Rose’s face. “What are you even doing here?”

“Listening to you strike a sizable number of planets from Rey’s future travel itineraries,” she answered dryly. “Have you slept since leaving Canto Bight?”

“She’d expect me to,” he muttered. And he had- a few hours, at least, even if the sleep hadn’t necessarily been sound. Solah had sent him the images caught by the holovid, and he couldn’t quite get the sight of Rey dragged beneath the ground out of his mind. “Did you have a pleasant journey?”

Rose ignored his sarcasm, apparently having decided at some point in the last two days that he was no more threatening to her safety than a heavily sedated lothcat. “I enjoyed slaughtering your knights at sabacc.”

“Did you beggar them?” Ben asked, not quite caring.

“We were playing for that candied fruit rind stashed in the galley, so no.”

He looked away from her, fixing his gaze on a shred of green cloth fluttering not too far away. “Rey likes those.”

“There’s plenty left.” 

_She actually has a preference for them,_ he wanted to say, remembering the way Rey had eaten them one by one with clear fascination, crystallized sugar briefly glittering on her lips until her tongue swept the granules away. “You don’t need to join this search.”

“But I want to.”

“My other knights will be arriving soon, so-”

Rose made a quiet, interested noise, drawing his attention. Her focus was overhead, on a ship- and not one from the First Order fleet, nor one that carried the Force signatures of any of his knights. 

It did, however, carry a pulse of power nearly as familiar as his own, and one he hadn’t felt at such close range since a battle over a year before. He had smelled her perfume, within the tight confines of his TIE. As his thumb hovered over the the trigger, he had remembered Alderaanian lullabies and his hair braided smooth and the feel of silk against his cheek, and he had been unable to move.

“Did you know?” Ben asked quietly as the ship landed nearby, pressing his hands to his sides when they threatened to expose him with the way they shook. 

“Know what?”

Rose sounded truthful, and puzzled enough that he didn’t bother to ask any further questions. Instead he strode away, toward a long-delayed meeting he had hoped to attend with Rey at his side. 

_She changed her hair,_ was his first thought as his mother emerged from the ship, clad in flowing gray robes. _She would,_ was his second as she stopped straight-backed before him, hair twined in a mourning braid he could read from ten paces. 

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t say a word as arid wind whipped around them, tugging at his clothing and hers, emotions so raw it was a miracle he continued to breathe at all. 

“Ben.” 

He remembered her voice as calm. Measured. Steady. Coaxing, at times, and occasionally irritated. Standing in front of him, she sounded choked by untold and countless months of unshed tears, perhaps dating all the way back to the destruction of Alderaan. “You’ve grown,” she said for some reason, and he flinched. 

“That does tend to happen, over the course of multiple years.” He could no more soften the bitter edge to his words than he could rewind time itself. “Did you take Rey?”

Her hands, clasped in front of her, whitened at the knuckles. Others drew near- Lando, behind her, and his knights and Rose behind him- but he kept his attention on his mother. “No,” she said with such sincerity that he felt an odd ache in his chest. “I might waylay Rey for tea and a meal, Ben, but only temporarily, and I wouldn’t snatch her from you like that.” She took a step toward him, then a second, then a third. “If I knew where she was, I would tell you.”

_The last time I was this close to a parent, I killed them,_ came the fleeting, searing thought, and he had to fight the urge to back away. 

“What are you doing here, then?” he managed to ask in a remarkably composed tone, considering. 

“I came to help.” She gestured toward the ship behind her, toward Lando and- _stars_\- toward Chewie. “_We_ came to help.” 

Kiren appeared just at his shoulder. “My lord?” he asked quietly, giving the words a questioning lilt. 

Ben took a moment to breathe, to weigh his choices. He had hoped Rose would be able to give him a clue, but she had only been given a comm channel to contact after arriving, and that channel was blank. An entire planet required searching, assuming Rey was still on Pasaana at all- and if she wasn’t, trying to find a single person amid an entire galaxy of beings, particularly a _hidden_ person, was an almost impossible task. “See what resources they can offer,” he instructed in a low voice, tongue nearly tied. 

When he turned away to stalk toward the newly-arriving _Spinebarrel,_ he heard his mother release a shaky, held breath.

\- - -

Kaydel delivered her next meal. “It’s late,” she said casually, quietly. Rey glanced through the still open door behind her- not protocol- then back at Kaydel with a flicker of hope. “Poe’s finally taking a few hours of bunk time,” she continued, shoving her hands into her pockets. “And Finn is eating.”

“Finn eats pretty quickly,” Rey responded, coming slowly to her feet. 

“Well, yes.” Kaydel lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Unfortunately, the door to the galley is jammed.” She took a few steps back, leaning against the wall of the corridor. “I’m trusting you to hold up your end of the bargain.”

Ignoring the full plate, Rey followed her into the hall, bare feet almost soundless against the cool floor. “Point me toward the comms, Kaydel.” The air was the same, outside the cell, but _oh,_ it tasted so much sweeter. “I know exactly who to call.”


	19. games, and promises kept

“I have failed in my duty.” Solah’s statement- spoken in a crisp, emotionless voice- washed over Ben as he examined the scans of the tunnels below and around the valley for the fifth time. “You would be within your rights to punish me.”

Unbidden, Ben remembered the feel of lightning along his veins, the destruction of what few personal possessions he had managed to gather, the poisoned whispers in his dreams and to his face, the sight of his fellow knights experiencing the same and worse. “I’m not Snoke,” he replied quietly, looping tunnels blurring slightly askew as he blinked. 

“No,” she agreed after a beat. “But he never cared for anyone or anything as much as you care for Rey.”

The tunnels were empty, no matter how many times he searched the scans, the valley and surrounding desert bare- and he wanted to scream. He wanted to snarl, he wanted to pound his fists against whoever had ripped Rey out of his mind and out of sight, he wanted to fight until he dropped to the ground with weariness. 

Still. 

“One of your charges was drugged,” he murmured after a long silence. “And I do consider Prehta your charge, because Rey is fond of her. Children mobbed you, seeming to play a game, and you were right to stay calm and not lash out against them.”

“It’s an old trick.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to follow my grandfather’s example when it comes to striking down younglings.” He backed away from the table, feeling the tingle of blood circulating back into hands long clenched. “They were ready to snatch her. This was planned… which means it was an inside job, given we never announced her trip to Pasaana ahead of time.” 

It was only on the heels of that statement that he met her gaze, palm brushing over the hilt of his lightsaber. “Did you betray us, Solah?”

She did not look surprised by the question- but then, it was practically his duty to ask, given that Solah herself had admitted that Rey did not fully trust her. “I did not, my lord.”

“Then no punishment is necessary.” Because he could have lost Rey himself in just such circumstances, because he had the nagging fear that his quickness to comm Solah might have stolen the few precious seconds needed to stop the abduction in its earliest, most crucial moments. “Though if I find out you were involved, I will drop you barefoot on the most remote portion of Mustafar that I can find.”

A corner of her mouth twitched upward slightly. “I would expect nothing less, my lord.” 

He dropped into a nearby chair rather than examine the scans for a sixth and likely equally fruitless time. “So formal,” he groused. 

“You are on a knife’s edge, my lord.” There was a hint of dry humor to her tone. “And surviving solely on caf, ration bars, and revenge fantasies.”

“A perfect storm.” He eyed her in a manner more sullen than he had intended, hands clasped tightly on his lap. “I was very serious about Mustafar.”

She appeared unruffled by that particular threat. “I know.”

“I’m repeating that fact because I want to discuss the situation with someone, and at this point I still trust you more than everyone else on this planet- more than my own mother, for certain, and the mechanic who insists on following me around.”

Solah’s mouth curved into a slightly more noticeable smile. “You mean Rose Tico, whom Kiren wants to induct into our order despite a lack of Force sensitivity?”

“I understand she bites.”

“I’ve also heard that story.” She took a seat opposite him, straight-backed and attentive. “Tell me.”

“The Resistance could have simply dispersed.” He unclasped his hands, peering down at the pale, barely-healed crescent marks on one palm. “And they were on their way to doing so, after Crait and after we stopped focusing our efforts on them. Even with- with Rey, they were no longer on the ascent.”

“Your policies helped that,” Solah commented quietly. “Hard for them to be heroes, when the First Order made change of leadership and direction so clear.”

“True.” 

“And from the chatter we’ve been hearing, the majority of the galaxy preferred- prefers- Rey as your equal over Rey as your victim or enemy.”

“Which makes me wonder,” he said in a slow, soft voice, “what the endgame is. Or endgames, I suppose, because I do believe that Dameron is playing one game even as someone within the First Order plays another- and the question is, of course, whose game takes precedence.”

She eased back into her chair. “And the purpose of that would be?”

He kept his _I don’t know_ between firmly shut lips, the memory of Cass asking _will we be resuming our former hostilities against them?_ repeating in his mind. Strategically, striking while the Resistance was so weak made sense. According to intel they were small and easily dealt with, needing only a minor expenditure of credits and resources. A standard month, maybe two, and only a handful of fringe members would be left.

_Unless they’re counting on us visibly turning on them, doing away with our unspoken policy of passive amnesty and reawakening public sentiment._

And sentiment would turn against the First Order, even if their reasons for making such a swift and bloody strike were justified. Snoke’s reign and cruelties were very, very recent, and Ben’s own reputation still marred, despite his own efforts. 

When he didn’t answer, she tapped her index fingers together once, twice, gaze shifting aside. “It sounds like the kind of game Leia Organa-Solo would be capable of playing.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “It does.”

“But you don’t think she’s the mastermind.”

“I think she wouldn’t want to risk Rey to that kind of game.” Ben paused, feeling a twinge of pain in his chest. “She does not sacrifice people lightly.”

There was a flicker of sympathy in Solah’s eyes, but instead of commenting on that point she simply nodded and murmured, “She is on the _Spinebarrel,_ my lord.”

“Of course she is,” he muttered under his breath, and stood. “I’ll be back shortly.”

It was with carefully hidden trepidation that he crossed the short strip of desert between the two ships. _Rey’s space,_ he reminded himself even as some inner child quailed at facing his mother again. _She has no business being there._ Not that he was entirely surprised at Leia Organa-Solo’s willingness to stride calmly into enemy territory without invitation; she’d been doing just that for decades. 

“- that lovely dress?”

He heard her voice, friendly and warm, and the end of her question the moment he entered, passing by stormtroopers standing at attention. 

“Yes.” Prehta, answering with what sounded like awed reluctance. 

“You have quite the eye. Rey looked beautiful.”

He turned a corner, finding his mother sitting across from a cautious Prehta, whose hands were curved around a mug of tea. Prehta’s eyes widened the moment she saw him, instinctive guilt flashing over her face, and she stood quickly, mug nearly toppling to its side when she abruptly released it. “My lord.”

His mother looked back at him, expression composed. “Ben. I was looking for you.”

_Everyone in the galaxy will know my birth name within a standard week,_ he thought with annoyed resignation, then forced himself to turn his attention to Prehta. “You are well?”

She blinked, but otherwise did not move. “Quite well, my lord.”

“Good.” He swallowed hard, doing his best to keep his posture nonthreatening. “I know that Rey must be worried about you.” _Wherever she is._

Prehta’s mouth curved up in a slight smile. “I’m certainly worried about her.” She slid a glance toward his mother, then back to him, and left with a muttered, “Pardon, my lord.”

“Spying?” Ben asked once they were alone, and his mother favored him with a gentle smile. “I doubt you’ll find more than standard gear and whatever Prehta packed for Rey.”

“You can learn a lot from someone’s travel wardrobe.” That smile began to look rather like a wry smirk. “What kind of situations they expect to find themselves in, what they like to wear in their off-hours. I do wonder what Rey might have worn if we had been able to meet on Bespin, as planned.”

She spoke as if they hadn’t been separated by space and ideology for years on end, as if they were sharing a kind of joke- but underlying her confidence was a thread of vulnerability, impossible to miss. “I doubt Prehta would have allowed you anywhere near Rey’s room.”

“Definitely not.” She clasped her hands on the tabletop, expression shifting to grave calm. “Rey found a gem in her, as best I can tell.”

“After, what?” he asked, and briefly, purposefully bit the inside of his cheek. “Two minutes?”

“I have a sense for people.” She dropped her gaze, hands visibly trembling. “Usually.”

“Everyone but your own son?” His words dropped between them, quiet and clear and somehow more devastating than a shout. 

“I-”

She was interrupted by the sound of his comm, which he activated with a sharp “Ren.”

The tired, happy laugh he heard immediately brought to mind Rey’s smile, the spill of freckles over her nose, the memory of her asleep against his back- and he could feel his mask shatter, replaced by soft lines and a quivering lower lip. 

“_Ben_.” 

Amazing, how just one word- _his name_\- could lead to his first unhindered breath in days. “_Rey._” It didn’t matter, suddenly, that his mother had intruded where she ought not, it didn’t matter that she was watching him in an utterly frantic moment. “Where are you?”

There was a pause that lasted just a beat too long, and when she finally answered it was with a simple, “Space.” 

Either she didn’t know, or her captors refused to let her say- and given the fact he still couldn’t feel her through their bond, he suspected the latter. “Are you hurt?”

“A few scrapes and bruises,” she replied with what sounded like forced airiness. “Listen- I made a deal, and I need you to hold up my end of the bargain.”

Ransom, then. Ransom he could deal with, ransom was far more preferable than a random group snatching Rey out of a desire to hurt her or him or both. “What kind of deal?” 

“There were three Resistance members arrested on Coruscant, recently. You need to let them go and expunge their records.” 

Jaw clenched, a tic beginning under one eye, he swung an accusing look at his mother. Gone was her earlier bearing of cautious vulnerability; she was regal, in that moment, expression filled with cold anger that was in no way directed toward him. 

“Ben?” Rey prompted when he didn’t reply. “Ben, _I_ made this deal, and it’s one I’m happy to make.”

“Give me the names.” He spoke in a tight, constrained voice, continuing to hold his mother’s gaze. “I assume your… collaborators… will require proof before releasing you?”

“Yes. They’ll take me back to Pasaana, after.” Her tone firmed, and he could imagine just how she looked, at that moment: serious, direct, and sure of herself. “No one is to hunt them down or harm them, do you understand?”

He wanted to snarl, to argue, to make it quite clear just how little he liked that resolution, but held his tongue. Someone was likely at Rey’s back, listening to their entire exchange, and he knew that she meant every word. His mother, irritatingly, looked rather as if she were fighting the same battle. 

“I understand.” Needing to move he stalked off the ship, comm clenched in one hand. “Give me the names, Rey. They’ll be out within the hour.”

\- - -

“He didn’t sound very happy about letting us escape,” Kaydel commented after the connection had ended, tucking away her comm. “Do you think he’ll keep that promise?”

“Begrudgingly, but yes.” Rey plucked at the soft fabric of her borrowed trousers, considering how best to phrase the thought circling her mind. “However-”

“You need to take Poe with you.” Kaydel shrugged when Rey cast her a startled glance, her expression one of resignation. “We won’t be able to go back to Pasaana without him noticing... and someone has to take the blame.” 

“Blame has nothing to do with it,” Rey said immediately, and then flinched at how _loud_ she had sounded within the small confines of Kaydel’s bunk. Lowering her voice, she continued. “I don’t think he’ll stop. If I thought he would stop, I would let him go with all of you- because the Resistance was right, once, and for _so_ long. But he won’t.”

“No,” Kaydel admitted reluctantly. “Probably not.”

They were both hurting, in that moment. Rey could see Kaydel’s pain in the way she hunched her shoulders and stared down at her lap, fingers twitching against the blanket. Whatever anger she held for Poe, it was being tested by the idea of handing him over to their enemy. 

“I have to,” Rey said softly. “Next time his blaster might not be set to stun. Or-”

_Or he might wait until there is a child to steal._ The words stuck in her throat in a surge of panic, but after a few breaths she managed to continue in an uneven voice. “If he touches someone that is mine, there will be no law or code of ethics that stops me from ripping him to shreds with my bare hands.”

Kaydel looked up, expression so understanding that Rey _knew_ the other woman had dug down to the bare-bone truth behind her harsh phrasing. “What are you going to do to him? Now.”

Rey traced the outline of the flower patch. “A-”

“Kay?” A fist thumped against the door of Kaydel’s bunk, the irritation in Poe’s muffled voice clear. “What the kriff are you doing in there? You’re on duty, and I _know_ you must be able to hear the racket Finn’s making in the galley.”

Kaydel grimaced, coming to her feet and gesturing toward an out-of-the-way corner. “I needed a moment,” she called back, stomping toward the door to cover up Rey’s quieter footsteps. “What’s wrong with Finn?”

“Door’s jammed.” The one between them slid open, and Rey saw Poe’s hand close around the frame, as if he might lean in. Kaydel pushed forward, expression one of bored annoyance. “I thought we had that fixed.”

“Well, we’ll fix it a third time.” Kaydel disappeared from sight, keeping up her heavier footfalls as she followed Poe’s longer strides down the hall. “There are worse places to be stuck for an hour.”

For the first time that day, Rey found herself grateful to be barefoot. Slipping out into the hall, she crept after them, pulling a length of torn, red fabric from one pocket and wrapping it around her fists. She had done this once before, when another scavenger had stolen part of her haul and strolled away, laughing. Hurling her skinny, ten year old self at his back and attempting to strangle him hadn’t gotten those holo chips back- she had walked away with a black eye, instead- but the man had given her a wide berth until the day he died nearly three years later. 

_I never wanted to do this again._

She licked dry lips, letting go of one end of the fabric with barely a thought- and maybe it was the hesitation in her steps at that moment, out of sync with theirs, or maybe Poe felt the weight of her attention, because he whirled just before she put on a burst of speed to tackle him. When his hand dropped to grab for his blaster, Kaydel shoved him against the wall and followed that up with an elbow to the gut. 

It was a quick, dirty fight, one Rey would never quite be able to fully remember after the fact. She felt the rough grab of hands, heard both Kaydel and Poe yelling and the sound of cloth tearing when he managed to get hold of Rey’s shirt only to have her twist away. The deciding blow, though, was clear: Rey’s cuffed fist slamming into the side of Poe’s head, the red strip of cloth she still held in that hand fluttering in its wake. He crumpled to the floor, stunned. 

“Do you have a medscan on board?” Rey asked, panting, as she tied Poe’s hands behind his back, feeling the ache of new bruises as she moved. “He needs help.”

“I’ll grab it.” Kaydel dabbed at her split lip with one finger, scowling with a wince when she saw blood. “Kriff, that hurts.”

Exhausted, Rey sat on the floor opposite Poe (_we were friendly, once_), waiting for Kaydel to return. Above, a light flickered, and- finally able to focus on something other than fighting for her freedom- she heard the distant echo of Finn’s voice calling out for help. 

_We were friends, once._

“What a rotten, kriffing day,” she muttered, and felt the betraying prick of tears against her eyelids. 

\- - - 

It took closer to half a standard hour to receive the holovid of Pava and her companions leaving their prison, and less than fifteen minutes after that they themselves sent a holo to a relieved Kaydel. Rey left the cockpit quietly after one last glance at Pava’s smiling face, making her way toward the galley. When she unjammed the shut door (a simple task; she barely had to think), Finn nearly fell through it, a startled, hoarse curse escaping his mouth. 

“So here is how this is going to go,” Rey said before he could speak, arms crossed over her chest. “Kaydel’s going to drop Poe and I off on Pasaana-”

When he opened his mouth to argue, she held up a staying hand. “-and the two of you can go… wherever. Without being chased.”

He didn’t ask if Kaydel had turned, or what state Poe might be in; she supposed the answer to both questions was fairly self-evident. “Rey,” was all he said, infusing so many emotions and questions into her name that she nearly took a step back. 

“I understand you won’t come with me- and I understand _why_\- but I’m going back to Ben, and I want-”

She sucked in a breath, on the verge of tears for a second time in less than an hour and finding it harder to speak than she had expected. “I want you to be _happy,_ Finn. You went straight from one army to another; you should have a chance to find a life you love, without running or following orders.”

“Shouldn’t you?” Panic and concern had his tone coming out as aggressive, but he didn’t take a step toward her. “He’s going to _trap_ you, Rey.”

“No.”

“Poe was wrong to go so far this time, but-”

“No.” She snapped the word, flinching minutely when Finn’s eyes went wide. “He wasn’t just wrong _this one time._ I know you’ve felt the burden of his expectations, too.” She lowered her volume, voice taut. “The ex-Stormtrooper was nearly as good a weapon in Poe’s arsenal as the pure Jedi.”

“I never minded,” he gritted out, and she felt a corner of her mouth twitch upward humorlessly. 

“Because our expected roles were very different. They would have let you get away with almost anything; I picked up a cup of Corellian ale _once_ and everyone looked appalled.”

“Rey-”

“I won’t spend the rest of my life holding myself apart from everyone else,” she bit out. “I can’t. I’ve spent too many years starving and thirsty and hopeless to look away from the billions of other beings in the galaxy in danger of dying in those same conditions. I have the power and the means to change things- and I love Ben. I _love_ him, and I won’t put him aside because an obsolete order of child-stealing, professionally neutral _moof-milkers_ dictated that I should spend the rest of my life meditating on some obscure planet.”

Finn looked rather as if he had never met her before. “Is that what he told you about the Jedi?”

“That’s what I _know_ about the Jedi,” she spat. “I read the texts Luke had tucked away on Ahch-To. I had some time to read others, after leaving the Resistance- and they weren’t propaganda published by Snoke’s First Order. The Jedi stole children, Finn. I have a hard time believing the First Order never told you that.”

His sudden stillness indicated that maybe- in all likeliness- the First Order had, and worse. 

“I determine my own path. I’ll keep my children.” And she had seen that path once, and a child, solid and clear- and maybe she could still have both, if her vision hadn’t been a rapidly closing window. “And I-”

When she took in a gulp of air, he asked quietly, “What?”

“And I hope that if you ever change your mind, or need me in some way, you let me know.” She stood there in that cold hallway, in her ill-fitting trousers and torn shirt, throat raw. “Even if that is twenty, thirty, forty years from now. But I’m going back, whether or not I have to fight you first.”

For a moment she thought that he might actually try- but then his shoulders slumped, and she knew that she had won. “I won’t. Stop you,” he muttered, and she gave a sharp nod in return. 

“Right.” Blinking back tears, she added a stiff “Good.”

It wasn’t until she turned the corner and he was out of sight that he spoke again. “Rey?”

She kept her gaze straight ahead, holding her ground. “Yes?”

“If I feel like you aren’t treating your soldiers well, I may come and start an uprising myself.”

Rey smiled a little at his earnest threat, lifting one hand to knuckle away a stray tear- and even knowing his answer, still asked, “You wouldn’t rather have a job restructuring the stormtrooper program, instead?”

“No.”

She dipped her head in a nod. “I’ll do my best, Finn.” 

A heavy silence fell between them, neither moving from their respective spot. “Take care of yourself,” she said finally, almost in a whisper, and walked away.


	20. reunion

Without the crowds, the kites, the music and jubilant dancing, Pasaana felt just as stark and lonely as Jakku.

“So, how are you going to execute me?” There was a sharp, jabbing edge to Poe’s tone. “Beheading? Blaster shot? Attaching my limbs to four hefty droids and then sending them off in different directions?”

“I’m not going to execute you.” Rey shaded her eyes to consider the horizon, doing her best to keep her own voice level. “Do you want some water?”

She didn’t have to look at him to know that he was smirking, or to know that beneath the expression lay real fear. “Or,” he continued, “are you going to set up camp in this desert and watch me die by inches as you sip cold drinks in the shade?”

She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, grinding one sandaled heel in the sand beneath her feet. “_You_ will be fairly tried-”

“Sure.”

“-with your own legal counsel-”

“_Of course._”

“-and treated with the dignity all living beings should receive.” She scowled, lifting her still-cuffed wrist. “More than you’ve shown me, for certain. I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me how to get this off?”

“Let _Ben_ handle it.” There was a ghost of a mocking smile on his face. “After he severs my spine with a well-placed kick.”

“I meant what I said; no one will be killing or torturing or kicking you today, or any other day.” Even if she had to sit outside his kriffing cell herself for the next month, warding off all comers. 

Hands still tied between his back, Poe leaned forward a little, as if imparting a secret. “I think you _want_ to kill me. Yourself.”

“_Of course I do._” 

He had not been expecting her snarled confession, that much was clear, but neither had she. Her tenuous grasp on her own anger had slipped, and truth had come rushing out. “You made my life a _misery,_” Rey continued, unable to stop herself. “You arrested me over fevered ramblings, you spread vile rumors about me, you abducted me with the hopes of hollowing me out and bringing back your pliant, smiling Jedi. What would you have done, if you had succeeded? Made me murder Ben? Propped me up as a figurehead to entice more battle fodder into your ranks? Offered to give me a name, a baby?”

There was something to his expression that made her think that he at least had considered the possibility of the latter, and she very nearly kicked him herself. “But I _can’t,_” she gritted out, as much to herself as to him. “I can’t publicly work toward justice while killing people who upset me; I can’t talk about mercy and fairness and also disembowel you in this kriffing desert.”

_You could,_ came the sly thought. _You could pull out your lightsaber right now; you don’t need the Force to use that._

_Can’t._ “You are going to get a trial, Poe.” She clenched her hands into tight fists, lest she actually dive for her weapon. “And it will be public and transparent and better than you deserve.”

His eyes had widened during her impassioned spiel, but there was a uncertain slant to his mouth. “Should have saved that speech for the holocams, Rey.”

She wanted to scream in frustration, and very nearly did, but a faint, mechanical whine caught her attention. _Ben._ Barely catching the flicker of apprehension on Poe’s face she turned, feeling a wash of relief spill over her at the sight of two First Order ships in the distance, swiftly arrowing in on the coordinates she had sent right before Kaydel and Finn had left Pasaana at top speed.

The third ship, nearly hidden by the black bulk of the other two, did give her a moment’s pause. _They would be turning on it, if it were dangerous,_ she reassured herself. Neither First Order vessel seemed to pay it the least bit of attention, which implied that it was, at worst, a non-threat; at best an ally.

As promised, she did step directly in front of Poe when the ships landed, standing with her head held high as hatches opened and a familiar cloaked form descended to the Pasaana sand, a mass of stormtroopers following. 

Ben stared at her, stopping in his tracks when they were toe to toe and not sparing anyone else a glance. He looked sleepless and wild, dark facial hair veiling the line of his jaw and above his upper lip, and there was a kind of glimmer to his eyes that made her feel as if his silence had more to do with fearing she were a mirage than anything else. “Hello,” she said quietly, lifting a hand to cup his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

He nuzzled into her palm, an actual tear slipping down one cheek- and then he spotted the scabs on her fingertips and took her hand in his own, expression fierce. “Rey.”

“Just a little squabble with some screws,” she said with a small smile. “I’d like a bath.”

He seemed to soften, a little. “Of course.”

“And a meal. And to have this removed, if you can manage it,” she added, glancing toward her cuffed wrist. “And for Poe to remain unharmed as he awaits trial, in accordance with the laws you yourself put into place.”

There was no other word to describe it: Ben _sulked_ on receiving that request. “He abducted my empress.”

“We never decided on titles.”

“And even your friend wants to punch him.”

Rey frowned, a little perplexed by that. “Which friend?”

“Rose Tico.” A glimmer of an amused smile. “I’ll play the dignified ruler if I get to watch her plant a fist in his nose.”

“I am here, you know,” Rey heard Poe unwisely mutter behind them, and she nearly whirled to face him. Instead she pulled her hand free and cupped Ben’s cheek again, feeling soft, prickly skin. 

“He gets treated just like every other prisoner under the new laws,” she murmured, leaning into him. He smelled like soap, like the muted cologne whoever handled his laundry spritzed over his tunics. She would have to learn their name, and thank them. “Rose will have to live with the disappointment.”

For a long moment Ben held stubbornly silent, clearly struggling with her words. “People like you,” he said finally, voice low. “He can’t be trusted to just any guards; some might decide to take justice into their own hands. That’s not a threat, that’s a fact.”

“Then we find the right guards, we make sure he isn’t assigned incompetent counsel, and we tell everyone in the galaxy that he’s in custody. We have to be held accountable for his safety.” She smoothed her thumb over his quivering lower lip. “You know it’s the right thing to do, Ben.”

“Yes.” That one word held its own galaxy of weary frustration. “Yes.” Ben turned his head, calling for Solah. When she stepped up to them he muttered their joint order and- with barely a hesitation- she selected several stormtroopers and whisked Poe away. 

“I can walk,” Rey said when Ben looked as if he might scoop her up. “And I would prefer to enter on my own two feet, in any case.”

He nodded, drawing her arm through his and guiding her toward the _Spinebarrel._ “I need to stay with you,” he murmured as they drew closer to the hatch, and she very nearly sobbed a laugh. 

“Did you think I would let you leave?” Trying to stay outwardly calm, she curved her fingers firmly over his forearm. “Now?”

“No.” He sounded sure of that, at least. “You have me as long as you need me, sweetheart.”

A large part of Rey desperately wanted privacy for just the pair of them, but they were surrounded by an entourage that she herself had chosen- both in creating her own crew, and in choosing to return at all. She was glad to see her knights and his, Mitaka and his staff, Prehta awake and unharmed. Rose’s smiling face was an unexpected joy, and the way she very nearly pushed Ben out of the way without a qualm to give Rey a hug an intriguing surprise. 

Leia, Chewie, and Lando, though- particularly the first two- were another matter altogether. Chewie greeted her under the Pasaana sun as if they had parted on the best of terms just that morning, and Leia- Leia stood with hands tightly clasped, tears in her eyes. 

“Hello, Rey,” she said, an odd, taut silence falling on everyone around them. Under Rey’s hand Ben seemed almost to turn to stone. “I’m so glad to see you again.”

Ben’s sleeve, Rey noted in an odd, distant way, was a gray so dark that it was nearly black. “You came to Pasaana?”

“For both of you.” Leia’s gaze slipped briefly, wistfully, to her son’s face. “But,” she added, one corner of her mouth quirking up, “everything I have to say can wait.” When she stepped forward to Ben’s other side, gently touching his arm, Rey felt him quiver. “Take care of her,” Leia said softly. “We’ll stay with you here, or follow you to Bespin, or-”

She hesitated, but eventually said, “Or I’ll take whatever bunk you might have free, if you prefer to return to the First Order flagship,” with barely a quaver to her voice. 

“Bespin, I think,” Rey offered when Ben did not answer. “Will you still host us, Lando?”

“Of course.” He offered his hand in a courtly fashion to Leia, who took it with what looked like carefully-hidden relief. “My garden is even prettier now than when you first saw it.”

A minute more and the door to Rey’s quarters closed behind herself and Ben, and they were finally, gloriously, alone. 

\- - -

The moment Rey’s public persona slipped away was impossible to miss: a long sigh escaped her lips, her shoulders slumped, and she visibly swayed. Turning to face him, she said with a weary, teasing smile, fingertips sliding along his jaw, “You haven’t shaved. Look at you.”

“I’ve had bigger things to think about.” Ben closed his hands gently around her waist, keeping her upright even as thoughts and worries tumbled in his mind. “You should sit.”

“I want to be clean.” Rey huffed a laugh. “Thirteen years scrubbing myself down with sand on Jakku, never caring about hygiene, and now I can’t bear to go a day without bathing.” She leaned into him, one hand pressing flat against his chest, the bag she held in the other dropping to the floor. “I think all of my adrenaline just bled away.” Rey stroked his tunic, considering the fabric. “This _is_ gray.”

“I just grabbed what was closest,” he muttered, intent on removing her cuff. “Sit down, sweetheart. You’ll need a minute to get over this.”

She sat on the side of her bed, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “Please.”

It was easy enough to remove, with the Force- and when she stiffened, sucking in a breath, he let the hated thing drop to the floor and steadied her physically and emotionally, acting as an anchor in the sensory flood. Her sudden return to his own mind was a relief; she was processing so much more. _I’m here,_ he tried to project as she shook under his hands. He had worn a Force dampening cuff more than once (_you deserve a reminder,_ Snoke had said), and vividly remembered how much worse the removal had been than the actual application. 

She was riding the storm, though, and admirably. “I don’t like this,” she managed through quivering lips. 

“I know.” There wasn’t even a wisp of a barrier between them; he could feel the echo of her aches in his own limbs, her lingering anger and sorrow over the entire situation.

“It wasn’t this bad when- when you woke me up. Before.” 

“You were open to the Force, then,” he murmured, pulling her close. “The cuff cut you off completely.”

“It _hurts._” Rey was almost panting, fingernails digging into his tunic. He soothed her the best he could with his mind and his hand rubbing circles against her back, until slowly, shakily, she pulled away with a dazed, “Thank you.” 

When Ben had started crying he wasn’t quite sure, but he could hear it in his own voice when he asked, “Better?”

“Yes.” Her smile was weak but genuine, tears on her own lashes. “I missed having you with me. It was cold. Lonely.” She touched his bottom lip with two fingers, a flood of emotion washing from her. “Hello, Ben.”

“Hello, Rey.” He kissed her fingertips- battered and scabbed, rough against his mouth- one hand curving around her hip. “A shower for you,” Ben murmured, “and a good meal, and sleep.”

“And you’ll stay?” 

“I’ll stay.” 

She went into the fresher on unsteady legs, but after a few minutes opened the door and leaned out, dressed in only her ripped shirt and underwear. “I’m not entirely comfortable alone, right now,” she admitted quietly. “May I leave this open?”

That little admission alone would likely give him nightmares, and sorely tested his promise not to pummel Dameron into a pulp- and then he saw the dark bruises and long scrapes down her legs, and was immediately on his feet. “Did they clean those?” he asked in a low tone, kneeling to examine the damage.

“If they did, I wasn’t awake for it.” He glanced up to see Rey looking down her own body with an air of professional scrutiny. “They’re not infected.”

“By luck and chance alone.” Ben stood, unclasping his cloak and letting it drop to the floor. “Can you reach everything?”

She hesitated, glancing at her right arm. The skin around her wrist was raw, thanks to the cuff, and she held herself carefully on that side. “Almost,” she said after a moment. “My arm is stiff.”

“Right.” He took in a breath, unbuttoning the throat of his tunic. He could- _would_\- care for Rey without overstepping. “I could wash your hair,” he offered quietly. “If you want. I’ll do my best not to look.”

“You can look.” Pink bloomed along her cheeks, but she met his gaze squarely. “I would like some help, unless it would make you uncomfortable.”

Ben felt a blush of his own rising even as he bent his head toward hers. “I just- part of my body might become inappropriately excited, and I don’t want you feeling as if you have to… to do anything.” He skimmed his fingertips over her cheek, still feeling a rush of relief over her sheer presence. “You should never feel obligated, with me.”

“If I thought you would take advantage when I was injured, I wouldn’t be here,” she answered, relaxing and taking his hand. “Are you sure?”

“I want to help.” Ben kissed her gently, luxuriating in the brush of his lips against hers. “Just ignore the more eager part of me,” he added in a murmur, and followed her into the fresher when she laughed. Averting his eyes as best he could he helped her out of what little she wore (the torn shirt, the pretty little structured bits of cloth and embroidery that cupped her breasts and the matching piece below), before taking off his own clothing and boots, save for his black underwear. 

“You can look,” Rey reminded him under the spray of water, smiling a little at the way he stubbornly stared at one earlobe while carefully washing her hair. “I’m looking at you.” She traced the line of his scar, a flicker of something- not quite regret, not quite greed- crossing her face. “I love how solid you are.”

No one could accuse him of crying, with the water sliding over his cheeks and hers. “Do you?”

“Foolish,” Rey whispered with a slight, embarrassed laugh. Maybe she was crying, too. “I keep thinking that you won’t die during the first lean period. And I love how warm you are, at night. Jakku was… was so cold, after the sun went down.”

“No more lean periods, sweetheart,” he promised, gently tilting her head back so that the water flowed through her hair, carrying suds away. “Close your eyes, Rey.”

“Everything could go sideways,” she protested quietly, doing just as he had asked. 

Ben smoothed a hand over her wet hair, knowing exactly what his answer would be. “If that happens, we grab everyone we care about and run.” It was selfish; there was no other word for it. “A year from now, decades from now. Our children, our friends, our trusted staff- or if you refuse to leave, we send those we love away and stand our ground.” When her eyelashes fluttered open he kissed the arch of one brow. “I’ll stay with you, Rey. No matter what.”

“I don’t know if I could stay, if we had children to protect.” She licked her lips, hands at his waist. “Is that terrible? Knowing I would abandon an entire galaxy for just one or two or three?” Pain flickered over her face, the bond so open he sensed her mire of thoughts and the way they echoed with a young voice calling _come back._ “I wouldn’t do it for Finn,” Rey murmured bitterly, almost to herself. 

“It’s different,” he replied softly. “We were both abandoned as children; we don’t want to do the same.” Ben paused, duty fighting with a kind of deep, instinctual knowledge. “And continuing on this path might put us in the kind of situation where it would be safer to send our family away and stay behind, to buy them time… but if that ever happens, I would at least try to take you and ours to the furthest reaches of the universe, first.”

Rey gave him weak, half-hearted smile. “There’s always Ahch-To.”

“A nice bolt-hole,” he agreed. “You would actually have to tell me where it is.”

Her smile increased by a smidgen, and then dimmed. “Are we broken, Ben?”

“We’re scarred.” He kissed her lightly, tasting the flowery notes of her soap. “We are who we are.”

Rey nodded, stepping into his embrace. “I lost the necklace,” she muttered against his skin, and it took him a moment to understand what she was saying. “It’s silly, crying over that,” she added, voice uneven.

“No,” he replied softly, feeling fresh tears prick against his eyelids as he rested his cheek against the crown of her head. “You’re allowed to care, Rey.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” She was warm against him and trembling, a show of vulnerability that made him feel as if his heart might break. “You’ve had a kriffing bad series of days.”

Rey snorted an uncertain laugh. “Yes.”

“You should let me put bacta on all those scrapes.” He flattened his hand against the small of her back, ignoring the press of her bare breasts against his chest, the curve of her ass just below his palm. “Feed you something delicious, tuck you into bed.”

He felt her kiss the point where his- her- scar ended on his chest. “Will you braid my hair?”

“Yes. Anything you need, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t until after- after they were clothed and he had twined her hair into a passable version of _my heart,_ after she had eaten and pulled him into bed with her- that she admitted in a barely audible whisper, “I still want to hurt him.”

And she was ashamed of her desire to do so, that much was clear. “I know. Me, too.” Ben closed his eyes against the dark of the room, tightening his arms around her. “But we’re not Snoke.”


	21. a lingering pause

He missed the moment when she slipped from their bed, but the quiet hum of the fresher door closing succeeded in tugging him from sleep. Mind foggy, Ben stretched under tousled blankets, the mattress barely long enough to contain all of him, and buried his face in Rey’s abandoned pillow. He must have dozed off seconds later, because the next thing he knew Rey was laughing quietly beside him, pushing at his shoulder. 

“Thief,” she accused him. “Move over before I bite you.”

“You can bite me,” he murmured, rolling onto his side. “Wherever you like.”

Rey snorted, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking one of his hands. “I forgot to give you something, before we went to bed. I bought you a gift at the festival.”

Blinking sleepily he curled toward her, fingers clasping around her own. Ben couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given him a gift- a _real_ gift, as opposed to a veiled bribe or a cruel taunt- and wasn’t quite sure how to process his own emotions at the thought. “You did?”

She turned on the bedside light at its dimmest setting, casting half her face in shadow. “It’s a little banged up, but still usable, I think.”

At some point her dusty bag had been moved from the floor to the dresser, and she padded away to dig through it, setting aside her lightsaber before returning with a wooden box in her hands. A long crack marred one side, but even in the low light he could see the polish of the grain. “The merchant said it was from Naboo,” Rey said softly, offering it as he sat up. “I hope you like it.”

It was still sturdy, despite its travails. Carefully opening the lid, he took in a startled breath at the array of pens in their velvet bed. 

“Are they all in one piece?” Rey asked, a trace of uncertainty in her voice. 

“Yes.” He picked one up, admiring the way it fit in his dominant hand. “They’re beautiful, Rey.”

“I loved the note you wrote for me.” She moved closer, skimming her fingertips over the box. “Maybe I’m selfish, but I hope you write me a lot more.”

Carefully he put the pen back withs its brethren and replaced the lid, deciding that he would place it prominently on his desk the moment they returned to the _Steadfast._ “Many, many more,” he promised, wrapping an arm around her. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

He had been fifteen, he remembered belatedly. Fifteen, and the gift had been a book- an actual paper book- on Alderaanian folklore from his mother, probably worth his own weight in credits. It had been destroyed the night of his uncle’s betrayal, just like everything else. 

“Do you think you can sleep a few more hours?” Ben asked, turning his attention away from stinging memory out of self-preservation. “Do you need something to eat?”

“I could sleep,” she answered. When he left the bed to safely put away his gift, she took over his spot against the wall. A flash of amusement, of contentedness at snuggling into sheets warmed by his body traveled over the bond, and he bit back his teasing joke of _who’s the thief now._ “Can I hold you, this time?” Rey asked, extending an arm toward him.

She snuggled up against his back after he turned off the light, humming a satisfied little note when he covered the hand resting against his chest with one of his- and then she nipped at the nape of his neck, snickering.

When he brought her hand up to his mouth and bit gently at the meat of her palm, she hooked her leg over his hip with a snort. “Are you going to shave?” she asked, nuzzling her nose against skin barely dimpled by her teeth. 

“Do you not want me to?” he replied. “I had planned on it.”

“Not my decision.” Rey said the words firmly, if quietly. “You’re not the reason I remove any of my hair.”

Ben had noticed the change, since Bespin- noticed, and had kept his mouth shut, unsure if he should even comment. “Did Prehta con you into that?”

“I used to get looks on Resistance bases.” She spoke matter-of-factly, breath hot against his skin. “Never did anything about it then, but by the time I came here I knew that body hair was a fraught topic. Prehta and I compromised.”

“How so?” he asked, voice grim, and she poked him in the stomach. 

“Don’t you dare go after her. I brought up the subject first; told her that I would remove hair from my legs and underarms if that made her job easier, but that I wouldn’t remove what was on my groin.” She sniffed. “If you have problems with that, you can find another bed to sleep in.”

“I don’t,” Ben said, more intrigued than anything else. “I wouldn’t care if you kept all of your hair.”

“One less thing for others to criticize.” She sounded as if the matter were vaguely annoying, and not as if her stylist or public commentary had backed her into a corner. “If it matters, I enjoy the way you look with and without facial hair.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He stroked the back of her hand, considering the matter. “But I think I should shave. For the sake of your inner thighs.”

The burst of thought he felt from her was somehow both confounded and electric, her leg tightening over his hip. “You really want to do that?” she asked in a thready whisper.

“You’ve caught glimpses of my fantasies, Rey.”

“Oh.” He was so attuned to her that he felt every puff of breath, every sweep of her eyelashes against his skin. “I’m still not removing that hair,” she said finally.

“That’s fine.” Ben smiled, nuzzling into her former pillow to catch her scent. “I want to see.”

She bit him on the back of the neck again with a wordless grumble. 

Five minutes later, she was snoring softly. 

\- - -

The _Spinebarrel_ had been outfitted with Rey in mind, not Ben, and watching him try to sit comfortably in a chair just a tad too low brought that to mind rather forcefully. The fact that he had also resorted to borrowing a razor from Mitaka (poor man) just highlighted Ben’s poor planning- and while she loved the return of Ben’s customary look (she did, she truly did), the sight of him with the beginnings of a beard had been… intriguing. Worth considering and following up on, at some point… but that was for a later date, Rey felt. 

“Did you think we would always take your ship, when we traveled together?” Rey asked, amused, as his long legs sprawled out into the available floor space. “I’m surprised you fit on that bed.”

“Barely,” he muttered, flicking a heated glance toward her, one that dulled to a soft warmth after a moment. “We need to think on schools, sweetheart.”

“I’m in favor.” Rey perched on the edge of the table, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of his datapad until he obligingly turned it in her direction. “What about them?”

“Minimum requirements, for the planets within First Order control- but even then, we can’t impose the same curriculum on every world; what works for Chandrila would not work for Kashyyyk. Scholarships, of all kinds. Credits for texts, supplies, building upkeep and utilities-”

“Food.” Rey broke in on his thoughtful, quietly spoken list with one firm word. “The students need to be fed, and without worrying if their families can afford the extra expense or not.”

His hand closed over her knee, squeezing gently. “Food,” he agreed, tapping the same into his datapad. “You’re right; thank you.” Ben smoothed his thumb over the fabric of her dressing gown, leaning toward her. “Are you hungry?” They’d finished their first meal of the day only an hour or so before, but judging by his expression he- like her- was starved for something other than protein and vegetables. She could settle on his lap, displacing the datapad, and inspect his shave at close range; guide one of his hands under her robe and indulge in the kind of closeness she herself still wanted. 

And she felt rather guilty in even allowing herself to dwell on her own pleasures when something more important needed to be discussed- guilty, and restless, and vaguely annoyed to be confronting major issues when she still felt more than a little adrift.

_But it will always be this way,_ she reminded herself. _Us comforting each other between galactic crises. No quiet stretches of time, no anonymous life on a forgotten planet._

“I’m always hungry,” Rey admitted honestly, thoughts settling at odds with her bad stretch of days, and curved one hand over his own. Her ring glinted subtly in the light at the flex of her fingers. “Tell me about the schools, Ben. We’ll need a rather large committee, by the sound of it, or many of them.”

He considered her for a long moment, thumb stroking back and forth. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” Rey answered, startled by his conclusion, and belatedly realized that her welter of emotions had caused her end of the bond to seize up tight. “I’m just… I would have done almost anything for a free education and one solid meal a day. I should feel more passionate about the subject, but…”

He leaned in, resting his forehead against the curve of her hip. “You will.” Ben brushed his lips over velvet, pulling back. “You’re still tired and unsettled. What do you need?”

“A walk, I think- and I want to talk to Prehta; make sure she’s really recovered.” Rey paused, frowning. “I have no idea who else is on this ship.”

“Solah is guarding Dameron on mine,” Ben answered immediately. “I believe Rose is also there- she’s made friends with Kiren-”

That sounded like a story, and one Rey wanted to hear from the woman herself. 

“Everyone else who traveled with you should be here. And we’ll all be on Bespin soon enough.” Ben waited a beat, then added in a quiet, serious tone, “I’m going to talk to Dameron, then. He’s been in contact with a First Order spy; we need to know who.”

She did shove her way onto his lap, at that, taking his chin between two fingers. “No torture.”

“That has been outlawed, as you pointed out,” he replied dryly. “Unfortunately.”

“Ben.”

“He _hurt_ you.” Ben’s expression turned stubborn, and for a moment he looked so much like his mother. “Not just for the past few days, but for so much longer before that. Forgive me for wanting to extract a little pain in return for all of your suffering.”

“No. But thank you.” Rey released his chin and begrudgingly said, “Though we do need to catch the spy, or spies. I’m sure you’ve considered both Hux and Pryde.”

“And Cass.” He said that softly, regretfully, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’ve considered everyone, but those are my top three.”

“We could have more than one coup in the works.” She ran her fingers through his hair, and enjoyed it so much she repeated the action. “Hux doesn’t strike me as someone who would willingly collude with anyone higher in rank than himself.”

“Not unless he planned to double-cross them.” Ben tilted his head back, eyes closing on a sigh. “If they are conspiring together, perhaps we throw them in a locked room and see who comes out alive.”

“Ben.”

“Sell it to the holostreams and use the money to fund orphanages.”

She narrowed her eyes, more enthused by the idea than she ought, given her declaration to Poe. “Stop trying to tempt me.”

The corners of his mouth tipped up, eyes still closed. “You need a teacher.”

His quiet, laughing yelp when she closed her teeth on the skin under his jaw made her grin. “I know plenty of ways to hurt people, thank you.” She dropped a kiss on the tip of his chin, cupping his cheek when he peeked at her through his eyelashes. “I could probably teach you a thing or two, there.”

“Probably.” That starved look was back, one hand skimming just inside her robe, barely tickling over her sleepwear. “Let me kiss you, before you interrogate your staff.”

Her answer was to drag down his lower lip with her thumb and slant her mouth over his, toes curling when his hand slipped under her shirt. Sometimes he kissed her with all the fervor of a man finding the cleanest, sweetest water in a desert, sometimes he teased; on that day he kissed her so gently that she could almost forget the intensity of his expression. It was at odds with the way she was determined to kiss him, and she felt his smile at her snarl. 

“My scavenger,” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes.” Eye to eye, and still technically kissing, she supposed. “You’re being soft on purpose.”

“Because I want to devour you.” Blunt enough to give her pause, and fan the heat she already felt between her thighs. “I stalked the halls like a caged lothcat, on my way to Pasaana. I want to tear out a few hearts and lay them at your feet, and then tangle with you in bed until we both collapse.” His gaze turned pleading. “But not for our first time. I want to be sweet with you, the first time.”

“You would,” she replied, a fond, amused note slipping into her voice. “If I had dragged you back to my AT-AT…”

When her voice trailed off, he adjusted his hold so that he almost cradled her, one hand pressed flat against the bare skin of her stomach. “Yes?”

“I don’t know.” She rested her head against his shoulder, breathing him in. “I might have mounted you on the floor with my teeth in your neck.”

“I’m open to that, if you ever have the urge.” His thumb dipped into the well of her navel, callouses caressing tender skin. “Go talk to your people, sweetheart. I think my mother tried to steal your Prehta; you may want to offer her a raise.”

“Prehta won’t leave,” Rey replied without worry, not yet stirring from his lap. “But I should apologize for ruining that lovely outfit.”

“You weren’t the one who ruined it.”

“No,” she said after a moment’s pause. “I wasn’t.” 

Rey kissed him one more time before pulling herself free, the skirts of her robe cascading to the floor when she stood. “I want to discuss schools with you thoroughly, and soon. Everything about them.” She took one of his hands, staring down at the curve of his fingers, the creased skin at his knuckles, the rough edge of one thumbnail. “I want to personally arrange for one at Niima Outpost.”

“Of course.”

“We may have to offer incentives to some parents,” she continued quietly. “Having small hands, small bodies to get into tight spaces can be very useful, in some of those downed ships.”

“Jakku wouldn’t be the only world with that issue.” He sat up, leaning in. “We’ll figure it out, Rey.”

“I know.” 

“Go roam.”

She dropped his hand with a small smile, one that grew as she remembered one particular tidbit. “I’m going to have to question Mitaka closely.”

Ben blinked, jaw firming. “You think he’s the spy?”

“No,” Rey answered easily. “Though I suppose we can’t rule anyone out, at the moment. I just want to know if he heard Prehta’s drugged admission of lust over the comm.”

Ben slumped back in his chair, watching her with real amusement. “Planning on matchmaking, sweetheart?”

“Is that what I’m doing?” Rey considered that, stopping by the door with her hand hovering over the keypad. “I suppose it is,” she decided eventually. “My first hobby.”

His choked, sputtered laugh followed her out into the hall. 

(Mitaka blushed, when she mentioned the comm transmission. 

Prehta also blushed, and then grew indignant when Rey brought up Leia’s attempt at poaching.)

\- - - 

It was a privilege to braid Rey’s hair before they landed at Cloud City, and one Ben prepared for: with her hair, when she was sleepy, and with the ribbons Ben found tucked away in Rey’s quarters. Prehta might take issue with him creasing the formerly smooth lengths of fabric, but Ben was willing to slip her a bribe if necessary- or that was the excuse he gave himself, until Prehta caught him in the act. She took one look at his handiwork and ransacked accessory drawer and silently, meaningfully, pulled a tunic of midnight blue lightly embroidered with gold from a closet, holding it out in his direction. 

“That isn’t one of mine,” Ben protested stiffly, fingers frozen halfway through a respectable enough version of _betrothed._

She looked a little nervous, a little shocked at her own daring, but kept her head held high and back straight. “I had a few items made to your measurements to coordinate with R- with my lady’s wardrobe.”

“I know you call her Rey.” Ben considered the tunic, feeling as if he were catching a glimpse of a new, far different conspiracy. Perhaps that gray tunic had merely been the first shot fired in this particular battle. “I don’t need a stylist.”

“You have several,” she immediately corrected, and briefly bit her lower lip as a flicker of panic appeared in her eyes. “My lord. They do excellent work for you, even if you don’t consult them directly.”

She was correct, and he made a mental note to give those members of his staff raises. “I prefer black.” 

And had been wearing solely black for so long (gray tunic aside), that the idea of wearing anything else made him feel vaguely nervous. Even the blue, dark as it was, seemed almost too bright, too eye-catching. 

“It is becoming on you,” she replied diplomatically, not lowering her arm an inch. “But you are now half of a whole, in the public eye, and Rey enjoys wearing actual color, at times.” 

“And you’re willing to bully me into sartorial compliance, apparently.” 

Prehta’s gaze dropped to the ribbons in front of him, the ones he held and his previous attempts, expression one of taut composure, as if she herself could hardly believe that she was still arguing with him on the matter. “Those are delicate. I’m going to have to iron each of them by hand; they can’t be trusted to a droid.” One shoulder lifted in a slight shrug. “I’ll find the time, I’m sure.”

Ben wasn’t entirely sure what Prehta did for Rey when she wasn’t actually dressing her, but he couldn’t argue with the results, and he was begrudgingly impressed by her refusal to back down. “Put it on the bed.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Despite her words, she stayed exactly where she was. “I believe Rey is nearly done bathing.”

“And I suppose,” he said grumpily, “you’d like me out of the way until she’s dressed?”

“It would give you time to change before arranging her hair.”

He stood, taking the tunic from her hand. “If you ever decide to take up politics,” he muttered, “I have a number of thorny postings for you.”

“I prefer bolstering Rey’s confidence, my lord.” Prehta took a step back, clasping her hands in front of her. “I enjoy watching her barge through every obstacle in her path.”

Ben felt one corner of his mouth tip up, at that. “We have that in common, at least.”

The tunic fit, and when Ylse saw him afterward she raised a brow and gave a slight, approving nod. “That will look very nice on the holostreams.”

“I’m not wearing it for the holos,” he said in a low voice. That their arrival would be spread throughout the galaxy was unavoidable, but at least it would also serve the purpose of assuring everyone of Rey’s safety. “I’m wearing it because Prehta very neatly backed me into a corner.”

“I like her,” Ylse mused, leaning against the wall across from the entrance to Rey’s quarters. “It’s been an education, the way Rey has drawn new people into our orbit.”

“Have you met Rose, yet?”

“In passing.” She smirked. “Would you like to take a bet, Kylo?”

He slid her a look, intrigued by her mischievous air. “Credits only; no favors.”

“I don’t need credits; I only want the glory.” She lowered her volume, leaning toward him. “They’ll be married within a galactic standard year.”

He opened his mouth to offer a retort, and then paused. “Kriff.”

Ylse looked unbearably smug. “Their hellions will scamper right alongside yours.”

Ben slumped back against the wall beside her, mind spinning. “It would be foolish of me to take that bet,” he said finally, a little dazed. 

“Because I’m right.”

“Perhaps.”

“Remember, the glory is mine.” She straightened when the door opened, Prehta gesturing toward him. “Tend to your beloved.”

Rey turned in her chair the moment Ben entered, and the look on her face on seeing him eased the last of his apprehensions. Midnight blue velvet pooled around her, sprays of gold creeping up the skirts. “We match.” She rubbed the hem of his tunic between two fingers, grinning up at him. “You look good in blue.”

“As do you.” He smoothed a hand over her loose hair, bending to press a kiss against her crown. “Are you ready for this?”

“Just holocams, no questions.” She shrugged, straightening in her seat when he stepped behind her. “I think I can walk across a landing pad and smile without issue.” Rey caught his gaze in the mirror. “Will you be talking with Poe before or after we meet with your mother?”

“Before.” He frowned down at her hair, gathering up a section to plait. “Do you want to supervise?”

A well meant question, and Rey seemed to understand that. “I’m not going to stand over you.” She plucked at her skirt, mood mildly agitated. “Are you going to dig through his head?”

“I won’t know if the information is genuine, otherwise.” He met her gaze again, fingers stilling. “I’ll do it as gently as possible, Rey.” No matter how much he wanted to plunder. “But one of the knights could do the actual search, if you prefer.”

“Do you think that’s necessary?” 

“No.” He crossed strands, her hair settling neatly in the first repeat of _beloved._ He had ruined more than a few ribbons, trying to perfect that pattern. “I can control myself.”

“Very well.” She reached back a hand, lightly touching his elbow. “I trust you.”

He nearly faltered at her words, unexpected tears welling in his eyes. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Another repeat, followed by _betrothed._ “I trust you, too.”

“I know.” 

“I could send Rose your way, though Kiren might follow behind.”

“I like Kiren.” He caught a glimpse of her peering at him intently in the mirror. “And I would like to talk to Rose.”

“Ask her if she wants to be an advisor. She might take the offer better from you.”

Rey blinked, and then snorted a laugh. “That is a brilliant idea.”

“We need her more than she needs us.” Ben thought of Ylse’s prediction and shook his head slightly. “And Kiren might pine away without her.”

“Like that, is it?”

“She makes an impression.”

Rey hummed a low, considering note. “Hux won’t enjoy having her around.”

Ben grinned, pinning one braid securely. “That only matters if he’s innocent of conspiracy.”

“It does matter if he tries to have her killed.” 

“Fair.” A new braid, and this one went a little faster. “I have a suspicion that Rose Tico, much like you, would be hard to kill. But perhaps we put Kiren on guard duty and see what happens.” He met her gaze in the mirror, a sly smile on his face. “Shall we?”

Her lips curved upward, slow and sure. “I like the way you think.”

(The holocams zoomed close, when they emerged into the Cloud City atmosphere. They took in Lando’s cordial bow, Rey’s smile, the way Ben bent his head protectively to murmur in her ear. 

When Leia Organa-Solo met them just outside the entrance to Lando’s home, the galaxy practically exploded with speculation.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey's general ["lounging on the Spinebarrel"](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451914549065/) aesthetic. 
> 
> Rey's [arrival on Bespin outfit](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451914549239/). 


	22. a familiar name

“Who talks first?” Dameron looked well cared for, though he had shadows under his eyes. “You? Me?”

“Amusing,” Ben murmured, stopping on the other side of the bars. “Remember that, do you?”

“How could I forget?” Dameron smirked. “I escaped, that time.” His gaze flicked down Ben’s attire. “Do you think the galaxy can be fooled by a bit of dark blue and gold?”

Ben ignored the last comment, merely saying, “You won’t escape again.” He took in the immaculately clean, if spartan, cell, hiding his grimace and doing his best to keep his words level and emotionless. “The next time you see Rey, you should thank her for her kindness.” A sharp edge crept unbidden into his voice. “Though I dearly hope she will never be forced to stand in the same room with you again.”

“She promised me a trial.” The gleam in Dameron’s eyes was a kind of bravery Ben knew all too well: what came when there was nothing else left to offer. “What would that be without its star witness?”

“That, I suppose, is inevitable.” With a nudge of power the cell door unlocked, and at the sound Dameron shifted his weight, fists clenching as Ben stepped through the gap. “I promised her that I wouldn’t harm you, so, once more- you should thank her for her kindness.”

“Yet you’re in this cell.”

“Because I need the truth. Someone in the First Order told you where Rey would be, and I need to know who.” It was a struggle not to shove Dameron against the wall and rip every bit of information free, his hand around the man’s throat- but promises had been made. Gentling his voice and infusing every word with the Force, Ben murmured, “You want to sit and tell me the truth.”

Confusion flitted across Dameron’s face, his body swaying. “I…”

“The truth is heavy, isn’t it?” Luke had never taught Ben this trick. Other students had been taught, his uncle beginning and ending every lesson with grave warnings, but-

Ben took a step forward. “You want to sit.”

“I want to sit,” Dameron agreed in a dazed tone, dropping onto his bunk.

(“I don’t trust you to use it appropriately,” his uncle had said bluntly, not seeming to care that another student had overheard his dismissive words, when Ben had asked why he was being excluded.

When Ben had stumbled away from his ruined hut, utterly sick, that same student had rushed up from behind to tackle him to the ground.)

“The truth is heavy,” Ben repeated, crouching in front of Dameron. “It weighs you down, doesn’t it?” The other man’s shoulders slumped, head bending forward. “You want to tell me about your contact.”

There was a peculiar feel to a coerced mind: a fogginess, a lag that Ben recognized instantly, and had suffered through himself in Snoke’s “kinder” moments. A light brush over Dameron’s inner thoughts found them consumed by clouds. “Who was your contact, Poe?”

“I don’t know.” 

“I think you do, and you want to tell me.”

Dameron swayed a little in his seat, blinking- and finally said in a quiet, slow voice, “They called themselves Grimtaash.” 

Odd, how a name Ben hadn’t heard in well over a decade could send such a burst of panic and anger through him, mouth going dry with a forgotten longing. A trembling took hold of his limbs, nearly spilling him onto the floor. “Grimtaash.” More a croak than a whisper. 

“The General thought it was you, at first.” Dameron’s mouth curved into a humorless smile. “She told me. No one else. And then you nearly died in that attack near Coruscant, and she never mentioned that theory again.”

“How did they contact you?”

“Encrypted messages.” A pause, followed by Dameron reciting a comm code, presumably for his mystery contact. “Small targets, mostly.” The fogginess was still there, but he was no longer quite so hunched, as if every admitted secret made him lighter in truth. “I asked for more. I needed a victory; everything was slipping away. Resistance members leaving in the middle of the night cycle, questions raised over why we were even still in the fight. The General was on the verge of withdrawing, and Rey-”

He blinked, fury flickering through the faux calm Ben had laid on him. “She was feeding you information.”

“She wasn’t,” Ben protested, even knowing that it would do no good- and his sharp tone, his flare of anger seemed to dispel a few of those clouds. 

“She was the perfect weapon, and you ruined her.” Dameron straightened his back, grimacing. “Get out of my head, Ren.”

Ben could subdue him a second time, could dig deeper, but held himself back. He was too angry for delicate work; any new attempt would be a rending rather than a careful coaxing. Rising to his feet, he loomed over the other man without bothering to veil even an iota of his displeasure. In the back of his mind he felt Rey perk up, her mind questioning, and briefly her perspective overlapped his own: the warmth of a tea cup against his palms, the softness of velvet draped over his skin. Dameron for the space of an instant was Rose, gesturing in argument. 

_I’m coming, sweetheart,_ he sent her way, taking in a deep breath. “Rey survived you,” he said, voice raw. “If the information you’ve given me is false, you may not survive me.”

\- - -

“So.” Rose placed her hands on Rey’s shoulders after pulling back from her initial, fierce hug, looking as if she were doing her kriffing best not to look at their luxurious surroundings- surroundings Rey at least was happy to revisit, after spending so many quiet days sheltered by them during her first visit to Cloud City. “I want one punch.”

Through the open door of the bedroom Rey could see Prehta look up from ironing, expression cautious. “Poe?” Rey clarified, not wanting their reunion to be interrupted by several knights or stormtroopers armed to the teeth. 

“I want to break his nose.” Rose pulled back, stalking over to the couch and dropping onto it with a bounce. “Maybe shatter a cheekbone. For Paige.”

“I would love to give you the chance, but I already made Ben promise not to take him to pieces- and the torture of prisoners is illegal, in any case.” Rose gave her an unimpressed look, clearly willing to bend the rules under the circumstances. “If I let you punch Poe,” Rey continued, “Ben would pout. Intensely. For hours.”

_And you have no idea what that does to me,_ she wanted to say aloud. _I want to pin him down, when he pouts. I want to bite him until he whines, and then wind all of my limbs around him._

“He looks like a pouter,” Rose muttered. She clasped her hands tightly on her lap, lips flattening into a thin line. “Can we talk privately?”

“Of course.” Rey leaned into the bedroom, saying quietly, “You can leave, if you prefer.”

“I’m not even half done.” Prehta carefully smoothed the iron over a thin, crumpled length of silky fabric. “And I still need to prepare your dress for dinner. Don’t argue about that,” she added before Rey could open her mouth. “Leia Organa-Solo has been a fashion icon for years, and she’s apparently going to be your mother-in-law- and yes, I figured that out, and yes, the entire galaxy is going to learn the truth at some point.” She set aside the iron and moved closer to Rey, lowering her voice. “There are already rumors spreading. People remember that she had a son, Rey. There are holos.”

“To be expected,” Rey murmured, breath catching. They had never discussed that particular point, nor had they asked Leia to publicly face Ben. Her presence on arrival had surprised them nearly as much as it had likely surprised the galaxy. “If you need to step out at any time, though…”

“I will.” Prehta nodded, returning to her work with a worried crease between her brows. “Talk to your friend.”

The soft click of the old-fashioned door closing sounded impossibly loud, for the space of a moment- and it wasn’t until a hand touched her shoulder that Rey realized she had been staring intently at the carved wood, mind whirling. When she turned, flushed and startled, Rose stood behind her. 

“There will be harsh words,” Rose said bluntly. “No one will ever forget where he came from, even if you never officially address the rumors. But he’s made good changes… and I’m beginning to feel like the two of you together might make _great_ changes.”

Rey huffed a laugh. “You’ve seen us together for roughly five minutes.”

“But I paid attention to the news after you joined him, and watched the holos of that party, and saw the way he looked as if his heart had been ripped from his chest when you disappeared.” Rose took in a breath, then said, “And I need to apologize.”

“Why?”

“Because I could have done more, when we were both in the Resistance.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hands clenching around her elbows. “By the time I realized how bad things had gotten I was so- so _angry_ over Poe’s involvement in Paige’s death that I could barely see past it. I was trying to figure out what to do, trying to stop myself from confronting him in the middle of the kriffing hangar practically every single day, and I should have- I should have temporarily put that aside to help you.” The pain in her voice was undeniable, and cast new light on her heavy silences during Rey’s last months with the Resistance. “I’m sorry. You deserved better from me.”

“We were both suffering. You don’t have to apologize.” A thought came to mind, pieces sliding into place. “You helped me escape.”

“Got rid of the guard,” Rose said with a shrug. “Least I could do.”

“I think,” Rey said after a moment of thought, mood lifting somewhat despite the day’s troubles, “that we should have some tea.” She reached out, touching Rose’s upper arm. “And discuss your future.”

“Mine?” Rose asked, sounding a little disbelieving. “I’ll find a job in a port, somewhere.”

“We need an advisor.” Rey smiled at the affronted expression that immediately appeared on Rose’s face. “Let’s talk about it.”

\- - -

“She will _not_ be easily convinced,” was all Rey had time to tell him before Prehta pulled her away to dress for dinner, a determined expression on the latter’s face as if preparing for a kind of war. Ben turned toward Rose, almost pathetically grateful to have a potentially solvable problem in front of him.

“I,” she said firmly, hands planted on her hips, “would have your entire council in upheaval.”

Ben hid a smile as he removed his cloak, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. “I should hope so.”

“Are you _trying_ to get me killed?” she hissed, staring at him as if he had temporarily lost his senses. “Am I expendable to you?”

“No,” he replied quickly, frowning at the idea. “We’re _trying_ to add a valuable perspective to a council that is entirely made up of beings who have always known wealth and power. They do their best, but they don’t understand the scope of our plans, they don’t fully understand _why_ certain things have to change. Poverty, hunger, injustice- they understand those concepts, but the reality is a distant, vague thing to them.” Ben paused, then admitted in a mutter, “Those same things have, in the past, been rather distant and vague to me. I’m doing my best to make up for that.”

Rose stared at him, expressionless- and then she quirked a brow and said dryly, “Rey has had a bigger impact on you than she likely even knows.”

“I’d like to think that I would make some of these changes even if I had never met Rey, but they would probably be more cosmetic than anything else.” He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a nervous one. “Rey trusts you, and the galaxy needs you. Take the job.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You know what the First Order did to Hays Minor.” 

“Yes.”

“I swore to destroy them for that.”

He held her gaze, not flinching away from the sharp-edged statement. “I want to give you that chance, by reshaping it from the inside.”

She didn’t answer immediately, clearly biting the inside of her cheek. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally, turning away to grab her bag. “I’m going to need a few days.”

“Take as long as you need.” 

He spent the remainder of time before dinner reading reports and returning messages (save for the blatantly unenthusiastic congratulations from Hux on retrieving his “erstwhile betrothed”), only changing into the outfit laid out for him by Prehta shortly before the woman herself called him back to braid Rey’s hair. 

“I could refuse,” he muttered to himself on seeing the clothing spread over the bed in the spare room. It was unrelieved black, but the style was a modern take on the formal robes of the Empire era- a style that had begun, once upon a time, on Alderaan itself. A coincidence, on Prehta’s part, or a subtle slap?

Or, he realized after a moment, an outfit chosen in the hopes of mellowing his mother’s temper, one that had nothing to do with his own origins. As he donned each piece- trousers and lightly woven shirt and over-robe- Ben couldn’t quite shove aside the worry that the tactic would work against him. 

Only the sight of Rey, when he was finally allowed into their room, dimmed his concern. She sat with her back to him at the mirrored vanity, her black gown dipped low on her spine, cords criss-crossing over skin pale from years of protection against the blazing Jakku sun. He wanted, Ben thought a little dazedly, to wrap his fist around those cords and kiss his way down her back, vertebra by vertebra.

Prehta, who was seeming to lose all awe of him in leaps and bounds, mumbled something under her breath and left the room with a long-suffering expression on her face. Ben stepped forward, meeting Rey’s gaze in the mirror. She was blushing, cheeks pink under her light layer of make-up. 

“I think,” she said teasingly, “that you broadcast that loudly enough for all of Cloud City to hear.”

“You are…”

He trailed off, standing behind her. Slowly he reached forward, tracing the gently draped, perfectly respectable neckline, hooking a finger under the necklace tucked into the front of her gown. The minimalistic chain ended with a large, faceted fire gem, still warm from her breasts. “You should wear this to bed,” he murmured, brushing the backs of his fingers over the delicate skin at the hollow of her throat. 

“I’d probably strangle myself with it in my sleep.” She was watching him as if she were unsure what he might do next, but interested in finding out. “Prehta said it just appeared in my jewel box before we left the _Steadfast._”

“It looked like you.” Carefully he dropped the gem back into place beneath her bodice, resisting the urge to take a peek at the curve of her breasts as he did so. “Are you ready for this?”

“No,” she said immediately, truthfully. “But it has to happen eventually, and- and I’m led to believe that people are already beginning to remember that your parents had a son.”

He fumbled the start of the first braid (the same patterns, he had decided beforehand, but in a different formation), took a deep breath, and then began again. “I was sent to the academy young; I don’t look anything like that gawky boy who attended events at his mother’s side.”

“I’d like to see those holos, someday,” Rey mused quietly. “I suppose I will soon.”

“They’re going to compare me to Vader.” Ben shook his head, thoughts bitter. “Exactly what I wanted, now that I no longer want it.”

“Do you want to admit the truth?”

“I don’t know.” The question came hand in hand with too many other others- would the truth of his origins destroy the fragile trust he had built, would he resume his old name, would the galaxy expect his mother at his left hand to keep him under control- and with an already nerve-wracking dinner before him and his fingers twining Rey’s hair, Ben did not feel up to answering a single one of them. “Dameron claimed not to know the identity of the spy.”

“You believe him.”

“I do- though I didn’t trust myself to dig deeply on the matter, so it is possible he managed to hide something from me.” _Beloved_ settled neatly along her temple, the best version of it he had made yet. “The spy went by the name of Grimtaash- a creature from Alderaanian legend. It was supposed to protect the royal family from corruption.” Ben paused, anchoring the braid with several pins. “My first ship- when I was still only Ben Solo- was named _Grimtaash._”

“How many people knew that?”

“Not many, but anyone who spent enough time examining my family’s public records would have eventually found mention of it.” Ben lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Or they could have randomly chosen a reasonably well-known Alderaanian figure to lower my mother’s guard.”

Rey shifted a little under his hands, her eyes in the mirror distant. “One more question for your mother, I suppose.”

He paused in his work, bending to press a kiss to the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck. “It’s going to be a long night, sweetheart.”

\- - -

“Color was a fleeting notion, I see,” Lando said with a sly smile and a dramatic sigh when they entered his home, and kissed the back of Rey’s hand. “I’m impressed you managed to wrangle him out of his customary black for even an hour.”

“Her stylist strong-armed me into it,” Ben said gravely, gaze drifting toward the entrance to the dining room where, presumably, his mother waited. 

“You act like she held a blaster to your head,” Rey said with a tinge of amusement in her tone, “when she likely just pulled that tunic out of nowhere and stared at you expectantly until you gave in.”

Lando chuckled at the sour expression Ben could not quite hide. “Well, you are both well-dressed and well-matched this evening.” He glanced toward the dining room himself, then added in genial warning, “The last time two generations of the Skywalker line had dinner in my home someone ended up frozen in carbonite. Let’s try for a more normal conclusion today, shall we? One where everyone retreats to their beds at the end of the night, physically unharmed.”

“Physically?” Ben muttered, glaring at him with little heat. 

“Your relationship with Leia is far too tumultuous for there not to be at least a few truly cutting words exchanged.” Lando offered his arm to Rey, who accepted it while also keeping Ben tethered to her other side. “I have disarming jokes prepared and jugs of cold water on hand, in case either of you need to be subdued.”

“And what’s my role?” Rey asked, something in her mood indicating that she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know. 

“To refrain from leaping over the table at your future mother-in-law, in the event she says something you don’t like.” When both Ben and Rey looked at him with matching frowns, Lando shrugged gracefully and said, “Leia can be sharp-tongued and infuriating, and I love her for it.”

“Leia can hear every word you’re saying,” the woman herself said dryly, appearing in the doorway. She was immaculately dressed, hair still twined in a mourning braid, and something about the latter made Ben feel breathless with anxiety. “Chewie sends his regrets; he also remembers all too well what happened at a similar dinner.” Her expression softened minutely. “And he expressed a preference to talk privately with Ben tomorrow.”

_Looking to finish the job,_ Ben couldn’t help but think, and immediately felt Rey’s elbow dig into his side. 

“So.” Leia looked back and forth between Rey and Ben, hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles were white with tension. “Shall we eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The back of [Rey's dress](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451918924435/). 


	23. indigestion

It was impossible to swallow. Easier to pretend to sip the wine, to cut his meat and push food around his plate with his fork, to tear a bread roll into pieces in as casual a manner as he could muster. Judging by the tense air around the table and the concern he felt from Rey, he was fooling no one- but then, his mother seemed to be using the same tricks at her place across from him, and somewhat more successfully. Lando and Rey appeared to be the only ones eating, and only Rey cleared her plate and took seconds.

No one spoke- or his mother didn’t speak, and neither did Ben. Lando casually discussed the weather, the local gossip, some holodrama he had recently seen, and Rey answered with as few syllables as possible, her gaze (whenever Ben looked) darting between mother and son as if waiting to see who would strike first.

“I believe,” Lando finally said over dessert, fingers loosely pinching the stem of a liquor glass, “that I have completely exhausted my store of inoffensive topics.”

A lie if Ben had ever heard one; Lando could talk for hours in mixed company and never be at a loss for a word. “I,” Ben said stiffly, “was merely waiting for all the knives on the table to be cleared.”

His mother laughed quietly, without humor. “Very thoughtful, especially as I’m not the one known for stabbing family members.”

A pall fell over the room, regret immediately flickering over Leia’s face. “That was uncalled for,” she said after a beat. “My apologies, Ben.”

“Well, it was true,” he said coolly, feeling as if at a distance Rey’s hand close over his thigh. “No need for us to go in chronological order; we can certainly start there, if you prefer.”

“I don’t, actually.” She added a spoonful of sugar to her tea, stirring carefully. “I do not think Han is a matter we can truly grapple with in one conversation, nor should we try.”

He felt, surprisingly, a spark of relief, and struggled to keep it from appearing on his face. 

“I envied Luke,” she continued, setting aside the small spoon. “Not for being a Jedi- I never wanted to learn how to control the Force, though he offered to teach me- but for being able to accept the truth of our father, and be at peace with it. I lost all chance of that when Vader destroyed the planet and people I loved most.” Her expression stayed calm, but around her eyes, her mouth, he could see signs of strain. “He killed a part of me, that day. I think that part still rots.”

In the silence that followed Lando pushed his untasted liquor toward her, and she shot it back in one elegant movement. “It took me years to admit that even to myself,” she said afterward. “It was something I sensed, but never acknowledged- and for far too long it was bound up with my terrible nightmares, with everything I felt from you.”

“That was Snoke.” Rey’s pointed verbal jab jerked him from his intense, unblinking stare. 

“You are right, my dear. I was unable to see the truth.” His mother lifted one shoulder in a slight, resigned shrug. “I was a dedicated government official, and- most of the time- a very good rebel. I was not the best of mothers. Maybe if I had let Luke teach me more about the Force, I would have been able to untangle my own feelings from what I felt from Ben.”

“Doubtful.” Under the table Ben draped his hand over Rey’s, smoothing his thumb over her ring. One edge, a little too sharp, nearly nicked his skin. “Seeing as Luke never bothered to do more than render me a pariah among my fellow students before attempting to kill me in my sleep.”

Leia had been reaching for a piece of candied fruit with a distracted air, but at that her hand stilled. “Pardon?” she asked, voice positively glacial.

“My beloved uncle,” Ben said with a mocking twist, “nearly beheaded me with his lightsaber. I woke just in time to defend myself.” Rey’s grip on his thigh tensed. “And while I did bury Luke in rubble, I was not the one who killed the other students, or destroyed the academy.” The memory of an explosion far off, of fire rising into the sky came to mind- and then guilt stabbed at him, old and jagged. “Except one,” he added reluctantly, in a low voice.

The one who had tackled him, the one who had done his kriffing best to kill Ben for the crime of _murdering Master Skywalker_. Ben hadn’t meant to lash out with the Force so recklessly, but he could still remember the crack of bone and the abridged scream. 

Her hand was still suspended in mid-air, gaze distant. “If my brother were alive,” she said finally, “I might kill him myself.”

“A lovely sentiment,” Ben muttered despite the ring of truth to her voice, and she flinched, pulling her hand back and allowing it to drop loosely to her lap. 

“He said he changed his mind last minute,” Rey said, almost begrudgingly. “Not that it makes me more likely to forgive him. I-” 

Rey hesitated, then turned her head to meet Ben’s gaze. “I fought him, on Ahch-To. I dumped him on his ass in the rain. That was the moment I decided to come for you.”

“Did you?” his mother asked quietly.

Rey did not answer, something in her face and mood implying that what she had to say was intensely private- or that maybe, perhaps, a part of her still shied away from hurting his mother. “You don’t need to worry,” Ben replied in her stead, anchored by the feel of Rey’s thumb moving in small, soothing circles over the fabric of his trousers. “Rey wasn’t feeding me information behind your back, whatever Dameron thinks. She barricaded herself from me quite effectively.”

“I never thought that,” his mother answered wearily as a flash of pain rippled through the bond from Rey. “May you never find yourself on the other side of a war from your children, Ben. It’s enough to rend your heart in two.”

He looked back at her. “I never heard a word from you, after that night at the academy.”

“More fool me, to believe my brother,” she muttered. “I certainly never heard a word from my son, or had any idea where to send a message.”

“I had no reason to think you would listen to me.” And he could feel, just as he had then, the confusion and pain and uncertainty his younger self had carried; hear the poisonous whispers of _she would never believe you._ Snoke had done his work well, and even knowing that he had spent years upon years destroying Ben’s familial bonds did not make them easy to mend. “You certainly did not comm regularly when I was still a student.”

She smiled bitterly. “Luke said,” she said in the same tone someone might use to say _that nerf herder spewed,_ “that too much contact would disrupt your focus.”

Ben, despite himself, was caught by her expression: that of a woman who desired nothing more to slip a knife between someone’s ribs. He had rarely seen his mother display just such a naked ferocity. Rey’s focus sharpened, and he had the sense that the predator in her was acknowledging an equal, in that moment. 

“I hope we will have many more discussions,” his mother continued in a carefully measured fashion, meeting his gaze. “Though you are currently in a position to have me thrown into a cell and tried for my crimes- but if you are of that mind, I would appreciate a few minutes alone with Poe before being hauled away.”

To his surprise, Rey slapped her free hand onto the table with a sharp exhale of breath. “If _I_ can keep from pulverizing the man, so can everyone else,” she snarled, radiating feral irritation, and hurtled to her feet. “Ben, Rose, _you._” She swung her gaze toward Lando, scowling. “I’m trying to uphold the _law._ That either means something or it _doesn’t._”

Ben had never, in his life, seen Lando burst into helpless laughter- but he did, at that moment, slumping into his seat and practically wheezing with his efforts to control himself. His mother’s lips twitched in the barest recognition of Lando’s display of emotion. “I’ve slapped Poe Dameron once,” she said dryly. “I won’t apologize for wanting to do it again, with all my rings turned inward.” 

She wore several rings that night. The stones were large enough to do more than a little damage, in such a situation. “I have no plans to arrest you,” he admitted in as even a tone as he could manage. “A sizable portion of the galaxy would turn against me for doing so, especially now that the truth of our relationship might be revealed at any moment.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “That’s why you greeted us in front of the holocams. The backlash for arresting Leia Organa-Solo would be bad enough, but the estranged, drawn to the dark son arresting his long-suffering mother? They would tear me to pieces.”

Her brief hesitation was answer in itself. “That was one reason,” she admitted. “A small one, more a side benefit than anything else.”

Beside him, Rey was muttering something inaudible but presumably dire under her breath. “Your main reason, then?” he asked.

“You need me.” She arched a brow with cool confidence. “With my support, whether we admit the truth that is our family or not, the Resistance officially dies. You don’t have to quarter me on your flagship or add me to your council; that may always be a step too far for both of us. I’ll settle somewhere I can be of use- on Chandrila, perhaps- and be vocal with my admiration of your forward-thinking policies. The occasional holo of us cordially conversing at a social function would help, if you can stand to see me that often.”

It was, Ben had to admit, a generous offer, and one that likely hurt her deeply- but a part of him couldn’t help wonder if that was all the interaction _she_ could bear.

_Or the most she’s willing to endure in the hopes of meeting her grandchildren._

When he didn’t immediately reply, she carefully folded her napkin and set it neatly beside her plate while saying quietly, “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to offer me, Ben. If that means the bare minimum required to uphold the pretense of friendship, then so be it.”

She stood, her mask of regal composure beginning to crumble at the edges. “Thank you for dinner, Lando. It was delicious, as always,” she told their host politely as he came to his feet. “Forgive me, but I must retire for the evening.”

It would have been polite for Ben to stand as well, but he kept his seat, feeling so overwhelmed by conflicting emotions that he could scarcely move. Just before his mother stepped out of sight, he said one word: “Grimtaash.”

She stilled, her back to the room. “I’ll send you copies of all of their messages,” she said after a beat, voice thick. “I hope they lead you to an answer.”

And then she left, head held high, the sight of the braid she wore for his father burning itself into his mind. 

\- - -

Ben walked in a fog back to their quarters (rooms that had comforted him when they had first arrived, because there was the table he and Rey had eaten at, there the couch she had napped on while he had worked, there the bed they had first chastely shared). He changed from his formal clothing in that same fog, performed his ablutions, and settled on the bed. 

“Here,” he heard Rey say, and then she was straddling his lap in one of her velvet robes, a plate in her hands. “You didn’t eat,” she said gravely, a piece of jogan fruit between two fingers. “Open up.”

“Rey,” he began tiredly, and was cut off by her shoving it into his mouth. 

“You’re going to eat,” she said stubbornly, picking up a shred of some kind of meat. 

When he kept his lips closely sealed, the guard he had not even realized she had up dropped. Memories that were not his swamped him: unbearable pangs in her (_his_) stomach, sharp-boned children hauling scrap, men his age on their death beds. 

“Wasting away is not an option,” Rey said, almost pleadingly. When he opened his mouth for her offering, a tear slipped down her cheek. Far more gently she fed him the rest of the plate’s contents: fruit and protein and bread, all carefully broken down into small pieces for the reluctant eater. He wondered, briefly, how long he had sat in a daze while she rummaged through the cold stores and prepped- but really, he didn’t need to know. For Rey, this was an act of love on par with pouring her own blood into his veins. 

“That was when it shifted for me, you know,” she said in a soft, conversational manner as she pressed the last bit of food between his lips and set aside the plate, grabbing- no, _beckoning_\- a glass of water from the bedside table. “That night with Luke, when he was in the mud.”

Rey held the glass to his lips, staring at him until he accepted it in his own hand and began to drink. “I thought you had abandoned your family,” she murmured as water trickled down his throat. “That was my first notion that maybe I had been wrong, and that they had abandoned you.” 

When he choked, she steadied the hand that held the glass and licked away the small stream of water that escaped his mouth. “Don’t waste that,” she muttered, another tear gleaming against her cheek. “Water is precious.”

“Rey-”

“I didn’t know how to say that, then. Or understand.” She smiled, a little self-consciously. “You and me. Snoke died, then we were trying to survive, then- well, the fleet.”

“The fleet.” He nearly smiled himself at that. “I should have at very least called a cease-fire until we talked a few things out.”

“That might have saved us a year.” She glanced toward the glass again, which still held a small amount of water. “Will you finish it?”

He did. Not because he was thirsty, but because she needed to see him drink. “Are you all right?” he asked after placing the empty glass on the carpet beside the bed. “You… you’re fond of her.”

Rey briefly looked away, offering one graceless shrug. “She’s likely been kind to any number of Resistance recruits. That doesn’t mean… well, it doesn’t mean much.”

He murmured her name, gently tugging her closer. 

“I’m fine,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze. “You need more to eat.”

“Not right now.” She was wearing something insubstantial under her robe; he could feel the heat of her body seeping through his clothing and hers. “You’re allowed to be sad.” Ben managed a small smile, offering teasingly, “I know you tried stealing my parents, scavenger.”

There was a beat, and then Rey was twisting quickly away with a stricken look on her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, a rasp to her voice, and he realized that she was absolutely having an anxiety attack even as she scrabbled toward the edge of the bed, looking likely to topple onto the floor. 

He lunged on instinct, grabbing hold of her and velvet in one fell swoop. “You’re fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.”

The bond was staccato, jangling along his nerves. “I-”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured when she broke off, curling around her. “Just breathe.”

He barely heard her say, “This is your bad night.”

“I don’t think we can always expect to switch off.” She was trembling but intentionally wedging herself further under his body, and that in itself allowed him to breathe easier. “Do you think I’ve never looked elsewhere for what my parents failed to give me?” He nuzzled his nose into her hair, hand flattening between her belly and the bed. “My uncle. Snoke.” _Cass,_ a part of his mind offered unsettlingly. 

“I’ve waited so long for a mother. And maybe I wanted yours, at one point,” she admitted in a whisper, the guilt radiating from her nearly rendering him breathless. “And now I don’t know what to do. She made me angry. And sad.” 

Ben understood exactly, because- even after a long and fraught history with his mother- he felt rather the same. “I know.” 

“We’ll be better, won’t we?” Rey asked softly. “Better parents.”

He thought of that girl they had both seen, thought of himself with a babe in arms (and thought of Rey with her belly round and hoped she did not see the same, because if she were unable to bear a child he never wanted her to feel the less for it). “Stars, I hope so.” 

“No sending them away,” she murmured. “No handing them off for days on end to caretakers.”

“None of that.” He loosened his grip on her robe. “That’s one of the reasons we have committees. To steal time to love each other, love our children.” And maybe the answer wouldn’t be quite so simple, but Ben refused to give in without at first _trying_ to find some kind of balance. “And I’m perfectly willing to carry them from meeting to meeting, when they’re still young enough to spend most of that time napping and drooling against my chest.”

At first he was worried that the way she shook indicated deeper upset, but he quickly realized that she was laughing. Rey pushed and shoved until she was on her back, half underneath him, face tear-stained and mouth curled into a smile. “Kylo Ren, glaring at his generals and advisors while his child sleeps?” she asked, and lowered the pitch of her voice. “‘How dare you wake my heir’.”

He bit back a smile. “Not just our heir,” he corrected, brushing his lips over the tip of her chin. “Our second… our third… our fourth. Are you hungry, sweetheart?”

“Ben.”

“You’ve fed me; I would love to return the favor.”

“I was supposed to be doing the comforting,” she fretted, smile disappearing.

“You have.” He kissed the sensitive patch of skin under one ear. “Do you remember inviting me into this bed?”

She stilled underneath him, mind and body alike. “I wanted you,” Rey said when he pulled back enough to see her face, her eyes soft. “I was afraid to take you.”

“Not anymore?”

“No.” Rey slid a fingertip down the slope of his nose, the blush in her cheeks almost defiant. “You’re mine, now… and in the physical sense, I’m not afraid of pain.”

“Rey.”

“I’m not. Do you want me to take off my clothing?”

“No. Not tonight.” Foolish to want an untainted evening, perhaps, but Ben would do his best. “Come away with me, tomorrow,” he said impulsively. “Assuming Chewie doesn’t maim me.”

Her expression settled into a kind of grim stubbornness that he wanted to map with his mouth. “He won’t. I told him why I was going after you; he sent me off with barely an argument.”

“Did he?”

“I think he wanted you safe.” Her gaze turned calculating. “You’re sure we shouldn’t return to the _Steadfast_? The spy knows- or at least would suspect- that we’ve talked to Leia by now; might suspect we’ve found out their code name from Poe.”

“I want time to examine those messages- and my hope is that if we continue with our plans as if everything is normal, they won’t realize how close we are to catching them.”

“Hmm.” She bit her lower lip briefly. “We are planning to marry, here.”

“So we tour a potential site.” Ben curved a hand over her hip, fingers pressing into velvet. “Even if we stay until the next morning… well, me bedding my future Empress in a lush honeymoon suite would be expected, wouldn’t it?”

She looked rather pleased by the idea. “Are you going to be an Emperor, or will we be holding mismatched titles?”

“The galaxy has not had a good experience with Emperors… but I do like the sound of Empress Rey.”

“It hasn’t had amazing luck with Supreme Leaders either, present company excepted.”

“Snoke certainly did his best to ruin the title for all successors.” Ben rolled onto his side when she pushed against his chest, holding back a sigh when she slid off the bed to move toward the fresher. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

She paused at the threshold, bare toes curling against the tile. “Maybe I could be an Empress,” she mused. “I’ll think on it.” Rey frowned, turning her ring round and round her finger. “We do need your mother,” she said unexpectedly. “For exactly the reasons she gave.”

“I know,” he muttered, covering his eyes with one arm. “She has us backed into a kriffing corner.”

The tinge of begrudging admiration he felt for that maneuver only increased his irritation. 

“How close do you want to keep her?”

For nearly a minute he only breathed, every potential future he could imagine fraught with tension. “I have no idea.”

She made a soft, humming sound, and agreed in a murmur, “Neither do I.”


	24. on the verge

The image circulated around the entire galaxy was an old one, but Rey recognized those involved immediately: Leia in a formal gown, her hair in looped braids and face unlined, a young boy at her side. “That’s you,” Rey said with a yawn, only a few minutes awake and barely into her first cup of creamed caf. “Look at your ears.”

“I’m trying not to,” he said glumly, scrolling through the accompanying text. “They’re being very careful with their wording, here.”

No accusations, but the carefully presented facts spoke for themselves, and they would have to step lightly when it came to addressing certain points. “Do we confirm their suspicions?” 

“I don’t see how we can avoid it.” He tossed the pad to the end of the bed, burying his face in his hands. “Not with our promises of transparency. Kriff, we’re going to have to bring her along and play happy family.” With a groan he flopped back onto the pillows, the resulting quake nearly splashing caf over the rim of Rey’s cup. “And I have messages from what seems like half of the living beings within the First Order, all with varying opinions.” The way he glared sulkily up at the ceiling was more attractive than Rey thought it ought to be, and the expanse of his bare belly just begged to be bitten. “Judging by his messages, you would think that my mother had personally stabbed every single member of Hux’s family, dating back to his great-grandparents.”

“Isn’t he suspected of taking out his own father?” Rey asked, and drank the last of her caf in one long gulp. 

“Yes.” He closed his eyes, long lashes dark against delicate skin. He was delicate, her Ben, despite all that muscle. “Meanwhile, everyone involved in public relations is practically drooling over having the Leia Organa-Solo stamp of approval.”

When she shifted to place her cup on the bedside table his hand curved over her thigh. “I don’t want her living with us, Rey,” he muttered, rolling toward her and pressing his forehead against her hip. “Not yet. Maybe someday.”

“It would be too soon,” she replied quietly, running her fingers through his hair. “I-”

Rey took in a breath, and then said with honest fervor, “When I was waiting on Jakku, I always saw myself greeting my parents without a qualm, if they ever returned- but now I know that I would have screamed and raged and shoved.” All those tally marks etched into metal, day by day by empty-stomached day; she may as well have carved them into her very skin. “Cutting her off entirely would be a mistake, though,” she continued. “Personally, and politically.”

His hand squeezed lightly, mood rather disgruntled. “I will _not_ walk arm in arm with her through the gardens,” he muttered against her hip. 

“We could bring Rose,” Rey offered, one corner of her mouth curling up in a reluctant smile. 

“She would hate the decadence.”

“She might like the flowers,” Rey countered. “And if she gets mad about plans involving…”

Rey mentally groped for a finish to that statement, and found nothing. “I know bantha shit about weddings, though judging by what Prehta considers casual attire, I can only imagine that I’ll be wearing something ridiculously expensive.”

“I’m looking forward to that part,” Ben murmured, his smile almost audible. 

“We bring Rose, and Prehta, and our knights. Lando, if he’s available.” She scratched his scalp lightly with her nails, watching with interest the way the muscles in his arm flexed. “They’ll distract her for an evening.”

He turned his head enough to peer up at her, hand shifting on her thigh until only a thin layer of cloth separated his fingertips from her curls. “You want to give my mother a chance to influence our support staff?”

“I want one night cycle without interruptions. For you.”

Ben’s hand moved a little more, just enough to make her squirm. “For me?” he asked, voice low. 

“You seem to have plans that last longer than a couple of thrusts,” she replied bluntly, and he frowned. “There isn’t some kind of ritual you’ve managed to keep secret from me, is there?” Rey asked suspiciously. “All those peeks into the brothel tents just looked like a lot of grunting and humping and crying; if you have actual _ceremony_ in mind I need to know.”

He seemed torn between scowling and uneasy laughter. “_No._ I just want it to be… unburdened. I want to feed you and take down your hair and not feel as if we’re rushing every step between crises.” Ben propped himself up on one elbow, the hand between her thighs keeping still when she very much wanted movement. “And as unpracticed as I am, I may only last a few thrusts,” he admitted, cheeks pink. “But there is so much we can enjoy before that, and after. I hope.”

“Oh.” She thought on the numerous bits of froth included in her wardrobe that could never be publicly worn on the majority of planets. “Would you wear seductive clothing for me?” Rey asked without quite thinking through the question. 

He seemed to choke on nothing but air. “What?” he managed after a moment. 

“I have so much see-through clothing.” Rey considered his bare chest. “You prefer to sleep naked.”

“I- yes?” Ben was clearly still rather dazed by the idea of her in transparent garments; she could see flashes of his imaginings in her own mind. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He was being utterly earnest, at that moment, but she had further questions. “Is it expected, for me to do the tempting? With clothing?”

Ben opened his mouth, then almost immediately closed it, slumping back onto the pillows. “Prehta could give you a better answer,” he said after a long pause, looking as if he were reconsidering his entire life experience. “It depends on the planet, but yes. To my knowledge.”

“You want to see me in pretty little things.”

His crimson blush and insistent erection beneath his black sleep pants answered that question nicely. “You don’t have to. I could do the same, find… something.” He did not seem so much perturbed by the idea as flustered. “Or bribe your Prehta to make something you would want to see me wear.”

His hand was still tucked loosely over her thigh, and tauntingly so. “So it’s the kind of thing that would be expected for me but not for you?” Rey pressed. “A little unfair.”

“Much like no one expecting me to shave my underarms while expecting it of you,” he muttered. “You don’t have to wear anything special for me.”

Which gave her a pause- because, Rey had come to realize, she rather liked wearing Prehta’s creations. After years of rough, uneven cloth scavenged from fallen ships, after years of sand, the feel of soft fabric was an unexpected luxury. 

_And maybe I want to see what he would do, if I wore something like-_

Like that gold dress, or those bits of lace in colors Rey had never seen before leaving Jakku. She had too inquisitive of a nature to not wonder. 

Rey slid off the bed, walking quickly over to the closet. A moment of rummaging brought an over-sized, silky black robe to hand, one long enough that it would pool on the floor were she to wear it. “Will you wear this for me?” She rippled the almost weightless fabric in his direction. “Sometime.”

“Yes.” He came to his feet, moving toward her slowly. “I could do that.”

The robe looked practically insubstantial, draped over his arm. He smoothed a hand over her bare shoulder, toying with the thin strap of her nightgown, and she saw a brief flash of herself underneath him, face rapt with pleasure and fingers digging into his back. “Rey-”

His comm signaled, drawing glares from both of them. “If that’s Hux,” Ben grumbled, draping the robe over his shoulder as he stalked toward the device, “I’m tossing the kriffing thing out the window.”

Stomach rumbling, and feeling obscurely as if she had been cheated, Rey went in search of breakfast. 

\- - -

Arriving separately had not been Ben’s preference, but there was a conversation to be had, and one he didn’t want overheard.

In retrospect, however, he wasn’t quite sure that arranging for himself and Chewie to co-pilot one small ship had been his smartest idea, not when that gave his father’s oldest friend roughly an hour to at least attempt to kill him, dispose of the body, and leave the planet before anyone save Rey would think to wonder where they were. 

“_Stripling._” 

Not the best of starts, given that _stripling_ was generally only used on Kashyyyk as a dismissive nickname. “Uncle.”

Chewie began his half of the departure proceedings with a determined air, not looking directly at Ben. “_How is your side?_”

“Scarred,” Ben answered in a clipped tone, doing the same on his panel. “Would you like to see?”

The ship lifted into the air without a hitch. “_No._”

And then- silence. Silence for long minutes as they flew, and if the tension in the cockpit was uncomfortable the coordination between them was not, both settling into the practiced movements of pilots who had flown together a hundred times before and knew every quirk. 

“_You used to nap on Han’s lap on the Falcon,_” Chewie said suddenly, sending a jolt through Ben’s body. “_Soaking his shirt with drool and making little baby snores._”

“Yes,” Ben forced out in a pained whisper. There were holos of just such a moment, and he had no doubt that they would eventually join the ones of him and his mother, and questions surrounding his father’s death would be raised, and new inquiries into the destruction of the temple-

“_I could have aimed to kill. I didn’t._”

In comparison to the coming public scrutiny, Ben was almost glad to be sitting beside a Wookiee larger than himself, whose disposition toward him registered as ‘annoyed’ at best. “Why not?”

“_Because Han would not have approved. Nor would he approve of a grudge between us._” The pitch of Chewie’s words changed to an anger than didn’t quite seem to be directed toward Ben. “_And I was there to see you as a lonely boy, always left behind, and a youth held at a distance by everyone around him. And I was there when Rey thrashed the truth from Luke._” There was a long pause, one Ben didn’t dare break. “_Stripling,_” Chewie said again, the term almost gentle, “_you were a tree growing alone, starved of water and light and scavenged for kindling by careless hands._”

Ben’s own hands lay lax against the controls, tears pricking at his eyelids as he fought for some semblance of composure. “I’ll live to see my own wedding, then?” he responded in a mutter that sounded distinctly bruised to even his own ears. 

“_I will watch your children play among the trees, and tell them of their grandfather._”

And maybe, one day, he would regard Ben with some kind of fondness once more. 

It was a very long and quiet flight.

\- - -

“I suspect I’ve intruded on a romantic getaway,” Leia said with a wry smile, settling in a seat across from Rey in the _Spinebarrel’s_ lounge. “Don’t worry, I understand my role in today’s adventure: smile indulgently, praise the flowers, and withdraw to my rooms for an early evening.”

Rey hesitated, then asked, “Did you leak that holo?”

“No.” Leia didn’t sound offended, just matter-of-fact. “That one was widely distributed at the time it was taken; I’m not surprised it’s popped back up now.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, clearly considering Rey carefully. “Why did you come back?” When Rey shot her a startled, cautious look, Leia clarified, “You said you went to him because of what happened on Ahch-To. I’m beginning to think that the story you told of killing Snoke by yourself was a bit of a lie.”

Rey looked away, focusing on the embroidery of the robe she wore for warmth. “Did you ever believe it?”

“Not entirely. I’ve always wondered if something happened between you and my son,” Leia answered calmly. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve seemed to carry a bit of Ben. It’s stronger now; the Force practically braids the two of you together.”

There no longer seemed a point to concealing the truth, at least with far-too-perceptive Leia. “Ben killed Snoke to save me.”

Leia drew in a sharp breath, and when Rey flicked a glance in her direction she saw that the older woman’s expression was distant. “And he didn’t ask you to stay?” 

“He did, though-”

Unwillingly, Rey felt the corners of her mouth twitch slightly upward. “His phrasing was not exactly flattering.”

Leia huffed a small laugh, shaking her head and seeming to return to the present. “Perhaps it’s genetic; Han was never what one would call a smooth talker. Dare I ask what he said?”

“‘You’re nothing, but not to me’.”

Leia’s eyes widened, genuinely shocked- and then she laughed uproariously, lifting a hand to cover her face. Rey briefly wondered if she should have held her tongue, but the decision had been made, and there was nothing she could do to call back the words. “Oh, that boy,” Leia said through her laughter. “No wonder he arrived on Crait in a foul mood; you must have flattened him.”

“I took it as a verbal slap, he said later that it was basically a marriage proposal,” Rey admitted dryly. “We’re better at communicating, now.”

“Practically anything would be an improvement.” Leia pulled a handkerchief from one pocket, dabbing at the tears on her cheeks. “I needed that laugh.”

“Don’t tease him over it,” Rey warned, fighting against the yearning desire to slide back into her old, uncomplicated fondness for Leia. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I won’t.” She carefully folded her handkerchief into a small, compact square, pinching the creases with two fingers. “I want a relationship with my son, Rey, and with you. We might never have what could have been- and I know myself well enough to know that I will likely say things I will regret- but my offer to help was an honest one.”

Through the viewport Rey saw the first hint of their destination: green the breadth of a city, dotted with buildings and covered with a glimmering dome. “If I hadn’t left the Resistance, would you have eventually approached him?” she asked, gaze fixed on the graceful downward spire plunging out of sight into the clouds. 

“That was my eventual plan.” Leia turned toward the viewport as well, her profile grave. “His changes made me hopeful, but I couldn’t suggest making overtures of peace too early; no one would have listened. Doing so on my own would have meant abandoning everyone who placed their trust in me. Clearly I waited too long, and left Poe to his own devices too often.” She frowned. “And you.”

“I was his device,” Rey said, one hand clenching in the folds of her robe. 

“I know. I failed at protecting Ben, and I failed at protecting you.” She sighed softly. “Sometimes even a master tactician makes grievous errors, my dear.” Leia stood, smoothing her skirts, a small, sad smile appearing on her face when she looked down at Rey. “Has Ben been braiding your hair?”

“Yes.”

“He’s always been good at that.” Leia drew off one of her rings, one that had been on her hand the first day Rey had met her: oval openwork with two blue stones. “I’m glad you have each other,” she said in a murmur, placing the ring in Rey’s palm and gently curling her fingers around it. “Welcome to the family.”

\- - -

Ben had visited the Cloud Gardens, famed for their palatial grounds and luxurious lodgings, only once. He had been seven, and had been an unwilling tag-along on his mother’s excursion with Amilyn Holdo when he would have much preferred accompanying his father and Chewie on what had been termed a ‘short, boring jaunt’ (his mother had rolled her eyes, at that, and had muttered something about restocking the Falcon’s bacta supply). Ben had spent those two days running along neatly kept paths, darting under the glistening waterfalls, and eating the candy Amilyn had slipped him with secretive grins. His mother had sung him to sleep with _Mirrorbright,_ and his dreams had been sweet.

As he waited for Rey to disembark, keeping his expression calm for the holocams doubtlessly trained on him, it occurred to Ben that he did not quite mind the idea of marrying in the one spot where he had once been perfectly happy- and then Rey appeared in flutters and ripples of blue, and he discovered that he could be happy there again. “You,” he murmured when she stopped in front of him, ignoring their entourage at a distance, “look-”

_Easy to undress,_ his mind supplied. Like he could toss her over his shoulder in a river of silk and bed her under in one of the shadowy groves of trees, or in one of the cool little caves behind a waterfall. He smoothed his thumb over the scar on her shoulder, bare to the sky and potentially the entire galaxy. 

“I like the way it moves,” she said with a pleased smile, nose scrunching, and slid her arm through his when he offered it. Then, and only then, did he notice the new ring on her left hand. 

“A gift?” he asked in a murmur, recognizing the Alderaanian lapis his mother had worn for years. 

“I could hardly throw it back in her face.”

“No.” It made a handy prop, at the very least. He stopped himself from glancing over his shoulder at his mother, wondering at her motives. “It looks lovely on you.”

They strolled along the first path they found, skirting around a pond filled with tangles of water flowers and brightly colored fish. Behind them Lando spoke in low, amused tones, surprising a laugh several times from both Rose and Prehta as he recounted a highly embroidered tale of his youthful exploits. 

“What do you think?” Ben curved his hand over Rey’s, only a little disconcerted by the feel of his mother’s ring under his palm. 

“It’s very pretty. Orderly.” 

She looked, Ben thought, as if she were tempted to kick off her sandals and wade into the pond. “There are sections that are- or were- wilder.” On instinct he guided her down another path, one shaded by overarching trees, hoping he were going in the right direction. “I think I know a spot you might like.”

They had only been walking for a few minutes when his mother appeared on Rey’s other side, hands loosely clasped in front of her. “I didn’t get a good look at that dress, when you were all bundled up on the ship,” she said warmly. “Prehta is an artist.”

Rey’s hand briefly tensed on his arm, but her voice, when she spoke, was cheerful. “You aren’t allowed to steal her.”

“I may have briefly considered it, but it was a fleeting fancy. Dressing the-”

His mother raised one brow quizzically. “Queen? Consort?”

“Ben favors Empress.” Rey seemed utterly in earnest when she asked, “What do you think?”

“Empress Rey Ren, or Empress Rey Solo?”

The mildly spoken question almost rendered Ben breathless. “Well,” Rey said after a long moment, an odd note to her own voice, “that is certainly something worth discussing.”

His mother hummed quietly, seeming- perhaps- a little pleased by their response. “Palpatine may have soured the galaxy on Emperors, but that doesn’t mean the title can’t be used again. There were good ones before him, and there could be good ones after,” she said practically. “Prehta will make her name, dressing the Empress. Have you considered eloping?”

Ben very nearly stopped in his tracks. “I’m led to believe the galaxy would appreciate seeing a wedding,” he said through gritted teeth, trying not to scowl. 

“Then you record the ceremony,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “Much more romantic than a wedding of state, and that allows you to throw a gala celebrating your marriage shortly after the fact. There is nowhere on Bespin that could host the number of dignitaries you would need to invite, in any case; better to use one of the immense estates on Chandrila or Coruscant than risk offending half your allies.” 

She was right- and as if realizing she had dropped quite enough to think about on them, she fell back with a smile and an inviting, “Rose, join me on this bench and explain how you got yourself entangled in this mess. We’ll let the lovebirds walk ahead.”

Once they were out of hearing range (save for possibly Solah and Olen, who had slipped into the greenery along either side of the path, clearly intending to shadow them), Rey murmured, “Could we really do that? Elope?”

“The idea has merit,” he admitted, irrationally irritated by his mother’s sound logic. 

“So we could marry tomorrow?”

He did stop walking, at that, though thankfully they were already around a bend and had at least a semblance of privacy. “Tomorrow?” Ben almost breathed the word, one that had never before tasted so sweet on his tongue. “Here?”

Rey stepped close, kissing a patch of skin just above his collar. “I think we’re going to be a little busy eradicating a coup after this,” she said in a whisper, lips brushing over his throat. “When will we have a better chance?”

Dazed, thrilled, he slid an arm around her waist and tipped her chin up for a kiss. “Yes.”

After- after showing her the remembered waterfall, struggling to keep his hands and mouth only in perfectly respectable zones lest some hidden holocam catch the Supreme Leader fondle his wife-to-be in an alcove, after informing those with them of their plans (Ben still so off his axis that he actually _smiled_ at his mother when she lightly caressed his cheek), after a frazzled but determined Prehta had whisked Rey away for a last-minute dress-fitting- Ben sat sprawled in a chair in their quarters, so perfectly pleased by the state of affairs that he hadn’t been able to stop smiling even when the serving droids had delivered their dinner. So relaxed that he had stripped down to only a loose fitting black shirt and trousers, feet bare against the soft carpet. The fact that the wedding ring he had selected for Rey was still in their rooms on the _Steadfast_ was a small matter, in the scheme of things. 

Prehta left at a quick clip, arms full of fabric and giving him only a distracted nod, and still he sprawled in utter relaxation, stretching out his legs in front of him.

“Ben?”

At the sound of his name, he looked toward the bedroom door- and immediately froze, mouth dropping open. 

“I’m starving.” Rey walked toward the table, hair still pinned up in his braids and her feet bare, a great deal of crimson fabric that somehow covered not that much flowing with every step. Around her neck she wore the fire gem, sparkling in the light. “Are you hungry?”

The wordless, strangled noise he made caught her attention. “Did you forget we were having sex?” Rey asked bluntly, looking both amused and a little nervous. One hand- her left, which no longer bore his mother’s ring- toyed with a slit in her skirt. “Are we not supposed to, the night before the wedding?” Her brow wrinkled as she looked down at herself, uncertainty clearly growing. “I could change.”

“_No._” He came hastily to his feet. “No, we- we can do whatever we want.” Ben took a shaky step toward her, wanting more than anything to drop to his knees and ruck up her skirt. “You look beautiful.”

Her breathing quickened, and he realized that she could see exactly what he was imagining- but then her stomach growled, and she snorted a blushing laugh. Dropping down into one chair in a flurry of red, Rey smiled up at him. “Give me five minutes.”

Ben smiled, desire still present but gentling into something soft and sweet. “No.” He moved to stand at her side, smoothing a hand over her hair. “We don’t need to rush.” They had this night; they might not have the next. After serving Rey himself (the best of each dish, heaping her plate full), he rearranged his place setting and chair so that he was directly beside her. “Sweetheart?”

She hummed around a mouthful of savory vegetables, looking absolutely blissful. 

“I love you.”

Rey swallowed hastily, plunking down her water glass between Ben and his plate. “I love you, too.”

Blinking back tears, he swallowed the contents in one gulp. “Thank you.” Refilling the glass, he handed it back to her. “Eat your fill,” he urged, brushing a kiss over her shoulder. “I…”

_I love you._

_I want you insensible with pleasure._

_I-_

“I know,” Rey said quietly, ripping a bread roll in two and handing him half. “Eat this.”

He did, skimming the fingertips of his right hand over the curve of her waist. “I’m going to be a very good husband,” he said after a long moment, voice low. “I promise, Rey.”

“I don’t know what that is.” She smiled when he turned his head, planting a kiss on his jaw. “I just want you. Here.” Rey picked up a piece of fowl coated with sauce between her fingers. “This is delicious.”

And he ate, licking her fingers clean and raising a blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's arrival dress](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451916173904/) (which has real Padmé at the lake vibes, in my opinion).
> 
> [Rey's dinner dress](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451919425896/) (which definitely involved input from Prehta regarding the question of "what could I never wear in public but is technically an outfit").


	25. sweet

“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to talk about.”

Ben’s expression did not change appreciably much, but he had been wearing such a pleased, dazed smile ever since she had suggested eloping that she wasn’t entirely surprised. Pulling another of her hairpins free, he murmured, “If there’s a set conversation, I don’t know what it is, either.” 

“Or if there’s a way to go from food to sex without being very blunt on the matter.” 

He blinked, clearly catching the hint of nerves in her voice. Dropping the last of her hairpins atop the small pile on the table, he began untwining her braids. “Have you changed your mind?”

“_No._” Snorting a laugh, Rey tossed her napkin onto the table, nudging her toes against his bare foot. “I was just beginning to second-guess my instincts.” She shot him a look, catching the moment when his gaze shifted from the nipple peeking out from beneath her abbreviated bodice. “You said you wanted our first time to be sweet, and I’m not sure ‘sweet’ includes me pulling you toward the bedroom with ‘Are you ready to have sex, then?’”

Her hair only half loose, he settled back in his chair, seeming torn between a wish to dare her to do just that and a hesitance to push her. “You’d be surprised.” 

One strap of her gown threatened to slip off her shoulder when she stood, and she let it, pulling her arm free. Coming to his side, appreciating the quickening of his breath as he stared at her bare breast, Rey fisted her hand in the front of his shirt, abruptly pulling his attention back to her face. “Ben.”

“Yes?” he replied in a rasp. 

“Are you ready to have sex?”

His answering smile was slow, and tender. “I believe that’s the sweetest question anyone has ever asked me.” Ben stood, his shirt still firmly in her grip. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

He followed at her heels all the way to the bedroom, one hand pressed warm against the skin of her upper back. “I very much admire this dress,” Ben said when they stopped, lifting his other hand to delicately trace what remained of her bodice. “I hope to see it at other private dinners.”

She reluctantly released her hold, itching to shove him back onto the bed- but that, Rey guessed, might not qualify as ‘sweet’. “I think Prehta nearly cried when I pulled her away from figuring out a wedding gown.” She sucked in a breath when he cupped her breast, blinking rapidly. “Practically threw this at me and- and told me not to wear anything underneath it.”

He froze, expression shifting almost predatory, and then abruptly crowded her against the bed, hands sliding down to her hips. “Nothing?” he asked in a rumble, and to her flustered delight followed when she dropped down onto the mattress and began scrambling back toward the pillows. 

“Is that such a shock?” 

“It is, for some reason.” He was poised above her, arms and knees caging her in. “If I had known, I might have spread you out on the table.”

“And displace all that lovely food?”

Her obvious outrage made him grin. “A crime; forgive me the thought.” He shifted to his side, pulling her close. Sliding one arm under her head, he carefully set to work on her remaining braids with his other hand. “The knowledge would have been a major distraction, at the very least.”

Rey- too warm, too wound-up- frowned. “Me wearing one of those flimsy pieces of fabric Prehta swears are undergarments would be less of a distraction?”

“A different and equally good kind.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Still true.” She could feel, despite the layers of cloth between them, the bulge of his erection against her hip, and yet he continued to gently run his fingers through her hair, as if smoothing out the rippling strands were his sole aim. 

“Ben?”

“Hmm?”

“Give me your hand.”

The movement of his fingers stilled almost entirely, save for what seemed to be a slight tremor, and then he pulled his arm back to place his large hand trustingly in hers. “What would you like?”

“I-”

Rey took in a breath, staring at his calloused fingertips. “I want you to touch me.”

His thoughts were that of a man about to receive a long awaited gift. “Where?”

There was nothing for it: she draped one leg over his own, her skirts pooling around her waist, and drew his hand down to her thighs. “Here.”

She half-expected a teasing follow-up, but was spared. His first touches- gentle strokes with no seeming aim save for mapping her out, his fascination so palpable she could feel it in her own skin- drew a squeak that hardly seemed to come from her mouth. “Like that?” he asked with low-pitched, solicitous concern.

“Like-”

At that moment, his thumb brushed over the nub only she herself had ever touched. Her strangled keen was answered by a fierce pleasure from his own mind akin to what she had felt from him in the throne room; a triumph so primal it was electrifying. His touch abruptly grew more sure, one finger just beginning to nudge inside of her. “Like this, sweetheart?” he murmured, breath hot against her hair. “Tell me. I want to know.”

Her answer wasn’t exactly translatable in any known language, but the way she clamped a hand around his forearm with a growl when he seemed liable to slip away _was_. 

Ben huffed a strained laugh, continuing to stroke carefully and ever deeper inside of her. There was a drugging kind of quality to the gentle circle and thrust of thumb and finger, a quiver born of his clear eagerness. She urged her hips against his hand, wanting _something_\- and then he shifted to suck the peak of her bare breast into his mouth, his thumb pressing _just_ so, and she was lost to a rush of pleasure that left her loose-limbed and greedy for more. 

She barely registered his whispered “Stars,” but did make a protesting whimper when his hand slipped away, wet against her thigh. “Beautiful,” he murmured, sounding dazed, arm sliding out from under her head. “Sweetheart- Rey, let me get you out of this dress. Let me see you.”

Which sounded, to Rey, like an excellent idea, but only if he joined her. “Take off your clothes.”

The last time he had given her such a wide-eyed, awestruck look had been on Starkiller, a fresh wound bisecting his face (the realization made her giggle, his confusion just increasing her laughter). Coming to a sitting position, her other shoulder strap slipping down her arm and baring her to the waist, she reached for the hem of his shirt. “I’ll take off my dress the second you’re naked.”

In his haste, he ripped one of the seams jerking the shirt over his head. When she tackled him (that broad chest was _hers_ to explore), he countered by rolling them both across the bed with a laugh of his own, hands pushing her dress down her hips. “This isn’t a fight,” she protested with a grin, trying to shove a hand between them to open his trousers. 

“It isn’t.” His eyes were bright, his mouth a teasing smile. “You can take whatever you want, Rey.”

She lifted a brow, barely able to move her hand under the pressing weight of his body. “You seem to be making that a little difficult.”

Ben kissed her lingeringly, the gentle rocking of his hips and the brush of his bare chest against her own a potent distraction. “I,” he murmured against her lips, “just want to taste you first.”

He crawled backward before she could quite process his words, pulling her dress with him and tossing it away. “Where did you get this scar?” Ben asked quietly when she propped herself up on her elbows, his thumb smoothing over puckered skin near her left knee. 

“Broken ladder, when I was… ten, I think,” she answered, caught by his shift from lustful intent to soft concern.

He kissed the mark, mouth warm and gentle, then moved on to a thinner line at the front of her thigh. “This one?” 

“Another scavenger tried to steal my scrap. He had a knife.” And Rey had won, barely, only to be forced to choose between half a portion and a minute amount of bacta, just enough to prevent infection but not to fully heal. She had opted for the latter, and had gone to bed hungry. 

“Did you make him regret it, sweetheart?” Another kiss, light as a breeze. “I hope so.”

“He-”

She took in an unsteady breath when he pushed her legs further apart, hands looking so ridiculously _large_ curled around her thighs. “Never messed with me again.”

“Good.” There was no mistaking it: the look on his face as he stared at the apex of her thighs was positively blissful. “Prettier than I ever could have imagined.”

Rey snorted, amused despite her new onset of nerves. “Exactly how long have you been fantasizing about my cunt?”

One corner of his mouth curled up in an unrepentant smile. “Do you really want to know?”

An acerbic reply was on the tip of her tongue when his own, dragging across sensitive flesh, made the breath catch in her throat and rendered words rather meaningless. Rey fell back onto the bed, her hand cradling the back of his head. _Good,_ she decided muzzily, hand clenching in his hair. Good, and odd, and so intimate she wasn’t sure there was a word to describe the sensation in any language she knew. Less experimentation this time; he knew exactly which spot to attack with his tongue and she could practically feel his smirk at her first quiet wail. One- two?- fingers eased inside of her, thrusting and crooking slightly forward as he lapped and sucked, her thighs tensing against his ears. The bond was so open that she could almost hear his voice murmuring praises in her ear about how she was _so good, so sweet; let me make you shake let me make you happy and sleepy and soft-_

She did have to push his head away, whimpering, when his attentions carried through the pleasurable aftershocks and straight into over-stimulation bordering on painful. He went willingly, scattering kisses over her thighs and belly and the hand lying limply on the bed, palm up. “I need,” she managed, eyes closed and body trembling, “a moment before… before anything else.”

“Of course.” 

“You don’t have to be so kriffing smug.” 

“I like being good at things on the first try.”

She peeked at him through barely open eyelids at the first rustle of cloth, catching the moment when he disposed of the last of his clothing and returned, color high, to lay beside her. He looked seconds away from combustion, but merely laid one hand flat on her stomach. “I wasn’t sure I would enjoy that,” Rey admitted, opening her eyes fully, “but your demonstration was very persuasive.”

“In a good way?” he asked, the concern on his face making her tug at his arm until he was folded around her, erection hard against her thigh and arms clasping tight.

“A very good way,” she reassured him. “And I didn’t think I’d like so much skin, but…”

Rey sighed, a happy, contented sigh that she hadn’t been expecting. “Skin is good.” She hooked one foot under his leg, snuggling closer. “So is your tongue.”

His cheeks pinkened even as a pleased smile settled on his face. “A pity it took me this long to use it for something other than irritating you.”

She snorted, poking his firm chest gently with one finger. “As if I would have let you get between my legs, back then.”

The smile turned into a smirk. “Are you sure?” he murmured, the hand on her belly shifting up to brush the underside of her breasts. “If I had offered to get on my knees for you, wouldn’t you have been curious, at least?”

She thought on their interrupted moment in the hut, their conversation before arriving in the throne room, and felt her cheeks heat. “I,” she said with a play at haughtiness, “might have been… curious.” Squirming out of his grasp, she straddled his stomach, planting her hands on his chest. “Maybe I spent some time thinking of the way you looked without a shirt.” Strumming her thumb over one of his nipples, feeling his body tense underneath her, she grinned down at him. “Good?”

“I am-”

His hands clenched in the sheets, breathing uneven. “I am seconds away from coming from just that.”

“Really?” Rey tilted her head slightly to the side, watching as he bit his lower lip, eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “What do you want, Ben?”

“To come inside you.” His laugh was a little strangled, a little embarrassed. “I won’t last long, Rey.”

It would have been easy to rise to her knees and shift backward, taking him with his body spread out so deliciously underneath her- and while Rey knew that she would enjoy doing just so at a later date, she couldn’t help but feel a little alone, in her current position. “Do you think,” she said after a moment, gaze flicking to the head of the bed, “that you could sit up against the pillows?”

“Yes.” 

They both shuffled into place, Rey staring down at his erection. “I’m going to need a little help with this,” she admitted. “Could you…?”

It took a few fumbling tries, Ben cursing under his breath at every brush of skin against skin, before he was at last notched inside of her. Carefully, tentatively (it was odd, _so_ odd), she began to slide down his length, brow wrinkling at the foreignness of being so incredibly _full_. The intrusion wasn’t painful- more uncomfortable in its novelty; a brief pinch and the endurable burn of muscles never before stretched in such a fashion being the worst of it- but by the time her hips met his both of them were shaking, eyes wide. 

_Nothing like the brothel tents, or the happabores,_ she found herself thinking. There was just something… something inexpressible at having Ben so close in both mind and body, something-

“Will you hold me?” she asked, and half-sobbed with relief when he wrapped solid arms around her, tugging her closer to rest against his chest. She pressed her face to the crook of his neck, focusing on the scent of his skin, on her own breathing, on the clasp of her body around him. 

“Sweetheart.” She could feel, faintly, the wild thump of his heart, the quiver of his hands against her skin. “Are you all right?”

An unexpected giggle escaped her lips, and without quite thinking about it she made a minute shift of her hips that drew a gasp from him. “I didn’t- I didn’t think anything could be as deep as the bond.” 

“This is pretty kriffing deep, Rey.” He was clearly holding on by only a thread, forcing himself to hold still beneath her. “Could you-”

“Move?” 

“_Stars, yes._”

And she could, for him. Biting down lightly on his neck, she began to rock, his arms tightening. He was babbling praises and pleas, sounding as if he might be crying- and then he whimpered, hips thrusting up and very plainly falling to pieces in a way that left her feeling unutterably in love and powerful. Laving his dimpled, unbroken skin with her tongue, she ran her hands up and down his sides as every inch of his body, inside of her and under, softened and relaxed. 

When she pulled back enough to see his face, she found his head tipped back against the pillows, eyes half-closed and cheeks wet with tears. “Kriff,” he mumbled. “Barely lasted a minute.”

“It was a good minute,” she reassured him honestly, kissing the tip of his chin and sliding her hands up to curve around the backs of his shoulders. “I enjoyed that.”

“Did you?” he asked, just enough vulnerability in his voice to indicate that it hadn’t been an idle response. 

“Yes.” More than she had ever thought possible, and he was just so- so _soft,_ so hers. She wanted, ridiculously, to set her teeth into his tender belly and thighs. “Maybe we could aim for two minutes, tomorrow night.”

His laugh was more a rumble in his chest than an audible sound. “You’ll be my wife, tomorrow night.” The way he spoke the word ‘wife’- as if he loved the taste of it, adored the way it felt on his tongue- sent a pleasurable prickle sweeping over her skin. Ben met her gaze. “Won’t you?”

“Yes.”

His expression softened further, arms loosely looped around her waist. “My wife.” Coaxing her to lay against him, head resting on his shoulder, he began to gently run his fingers through her tangled hair. “I’ll try for three minutes.”

Snickering, she closed her eyes and snuggled close. “Was this sweet, Ben?”

“Yes.” One hand smoothed down her back. “I can’t imagine anything sweeter.”

She nearly let that pass without comment, but then ventured, “Except…”

He laughed with what sounded like dizzy joy. “Dessert? Again?”

Smiling against his skin, Rey answered, “Yes.”

“Hmm.” He lazily tickled the base of her spine before patting the curve of her ass. “Maybe we take a bath, and then I feed you whatever you want.”

It was, Rey decided, an excellent compromise.


	26. ready

There was a pleasant weight on his stomach when, slowly climbing up from soft dreams he couldn’t quite remember, he finally came to some kind of wakefulness. Opening his eyes with a yawn and stretching as best he could under what little coverings he still seemed to possess, he looked down his body to find Rey, wide-awake and wearing nothing but the early morning light, lying with her head pillowed on his belly. 

“What are you doing all the way down there?” he asked, words blurred by a second yawn. 

“Hmm.” She blushed, a little, but made no attempt to move. “I like this bit of you.” Rey slid her fingertips over his skin, mouth curling into a soft smile. “And I considered getting a better look at a different part, but I didn’t want to wake you up.” The color in her cheeks deepened, her smile wavering. “And I wasn’t sure if that was allowed, waking you up like that.”

Only half sure he knew what she was talking about, he asked, “Like what?”

“With me touching your cock.” She stated it plainly, though he could feel the heat of her blush against his skin. “You can wake me up like that, if you want,” Rey continued before he could respond. “If I’m not willing, I’ll let you know fairly quickly.”

His daydreams of curling up behind a sleeping Rey and slipping his hand between her legs came abruptly to the fore, bringing up a blush of his own and only increasing his natural morning state. “You can wake me up like that,” he managed to say in a relatively calm manner, rather than blurting it out with a desperate _please._ “I’d like to try both scenarios.”

“Good.” She rolled over before he could say anything more, drawing the sheet off of his hips. One fingertip slid up his cock from root to head, and he didn’t even try to silence his whine. “I really did like the way you felt in me,” she informed him, continuing her light strokes. “I think I’m just going to enjoy it more and more, as time goes on.”

“Do you?”

Maybe she was smiling at his thin, strained tone, maybe not; all he felt from her was almost scientific fascination. “I also liked how you seem to melt, after.” Rey rolled back over, reaching for his hand. “I don’t think you rest nearly as much as you should.”

He could say the same about her; what regular sleep she had gained since joining him in no way made up for years of broken naps- which, he supposed reluctantly, was basically his same situation. “We do rule most of the galaxy.”

She blinked, looking unconvinced. “You _really_ enjoyed making me all hazy.”

“I enjoyed pleasuring you,” he countered, and she quirked a brow. 

“If I had fallen asleep you would have smugly tucked me in before sneaking into the fresher to take care of yourself.”

He grumbled under his breath at her entirely too true words, reaching out with his free hand to smooth her wild hair. “As you noted,” he muttered after a moment, “we’ve never discussed that kind of boundary.”

“My husband-to-be is romantic.” Rey smiled cheerily, nestling her cheek against his belly. “If I understood Rose’s description right, that one night I caught her tipsy on ale.”

“Dare I ask Rose’s definition?”

“Sweet,” Rey answered immediately, releasing his hand and crawling up his body, settling herself on his chest. “Considerate. Soft-eyed.”

Ben scoffed, though he knew the definition fit him much closer than he might admit. “_Soft-eyed._” 

A sly grin appeared on her face, and she lifted a hand to tap one finger between his eyes. “Very soft.”

She brushed her lips gently over his once, twice, a third time, laughing with quiet mischief when he tried to deepen each kiss. Her curls were damp against his belly, her skin warm, and when he gave in to temptation and closed his hands firmly over her ass she sucked in a breath, playful teasing abruptly shifting to heated consideration. 

And then, of course, the chime for the main door sounded, and Rey scrambled off of him to scoop up his shirt from the floor. “You’re going to braid my hair, right?” she asked as she slipped the shirt over her head, black fabric obscuring her face from his sight for precious seconds. 

“Yes,” Ben managed, cold from the sudden loss of her heat. “That-”

“Is Prehta,” Rey replied apologetically, a flash of her own frustration traveling through the bond as she shifted from foot to foot, gaze briefly dipping to his cock. “And she’s impatient.”

It took him only a few seconds more to register exactly what she had felt from the general direction of the door. “Yes,” he agreed, slumping even further against the pillows. “She is.”

Rey paused at the threshold to the main room, looking back at him with a glint in her eyes. “Ben?”

“Hmm?”

For a brief, brief moment she leaned against the door-frame, long legs bare and hair tumbling around her shoulders. “You look very tempting, like that.”

And then she strolled away, pulling a longing groan from him.

\- - -

“I hope you understand that I have achieved a miracle,” Prehta said the moment Rey opened the door, her arms full of a carefully draped garment bag. She looked, Rey thought, as if she had gotten a great deal more sleep than she likely had, thanks to a blend of her own skills and the luminous triumph in her expression. “And that I don’t care if you hate the final product.”

Some of that light dulled. “Fine, I do,” she admitted in a mutter, frowning as she stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind her. “If you hate it, I’m going to sob messily while buttoning you into something else.”

Rey hadn’t exactly been paying attention to what options Prehta had been considering the night before; she had been too distracted by just the sight of the bed and her own nerves. _And now,_ she acknowledged wryly, _I’m distracted by what I could be doing in that bed._

Ben, spread out like a feast on soft sheets. She licked her lips before realizing that she had waited a beat too long to offer reassurance. “Have you ever made something for me that I outright hated?” she asked, and Prehta sighed, tipping her head back toward the ceiling in what looked like a silent plea to some deity. Rey moved toward the table, snagging the first piece of fruit her hand fell on from the bowl. If she couldn’t satiate one kind of hunger, she would kriffing take care of another. “How long do we have?”

A brief burst of wild laughter escaped Prehta. “You don’t even know what time you’re getting married?”

“Leia seemed to have all of that well in hand.” Rey examined the soft luster of her prize, unsure what the blue fruit was but tasting it nonetheless. Juice, tart and sweet, slid over her tongue, and she quickly took a second bite. Delicious. 

“She did and does.” Prehta glanced warily at the bedroom door. “Is it safe for me to go in there?” 

Rey shook her head with a grin, Ben’s pout when she had left still very clear in her mind. 

Prehta looked rather as if she were dying to ask some very impertinent questions, but instead said, “The ceremony is midday, which means we need to start preparing soon.”

“So you want me to kick the Supreme Leader out of bed?” Rey asked, amused, tossing the core into a wastebasket and licking juice from her fingers. 

“Not the words I would have used, but yes.”

Ben himself entered the room at that moment, wearing his trousers from the night before and another of his endless supply of black shirts. Despite Prehta’s presence, his outward demeanor was not quite Kylo Ren’s public face: there was a distance there, but it was polite. He gave her a somewhat grumpy nod, and then turned his attention to Rey with three beautiful words: “I’ll order breakfast.”

She kissed him, hard, and gave herself over to Prehta’s keeping without a qualm. 

There was hot caf waiting, once she finished bathing, and eggs, and savory, crispy cakes of shredded vegetables with some sort of dipping sauce. She worked through it all as Prehta finished gathering Ben’s clothing for the day, transporting it to the second bedroom as he watched without offering a single complaint on the flowing, soft lines of nearly every piece. 

“Interesting,” Rey noted when they were briefly alone, and one corner of his mouth tipped upward. 

“I don’t dare refuse.”

He lingered, slouching against the wall, as Prehta dried her hair and attended to her makeup, then took up position behind her. “This style is traditional for brides,” Ben said quietly, running his fingers through her hair as Prehta discretely slipped out of the room. “One of the traditional styles, at least; the royal house of Alderaan almost always used this one for weddings.” He carefully began a braid, one unfamiliar to her eyes- but then, most of his practice had been done on a bed, away from mirrors. “They’re promises.”

“What kind?”

“Love, honor, fidelity, and equality.” He met her gaze in the mirror. “I practiced them again, last night, after you fell asleep.”

“This morning,” Rey corrected, mouth curving into a smile. “I think it was technically this morning, when I fell asleep.” After their bath (a shocking waste of water, considering how much of it had ended up on the floor), after more of that silky custard they had first eaten with dinner, and after he had knelt before her chair, his head between her thighs a second time. 

“This morning.” There was a glint of amusement in his eyes when he lowered his voice further to say, “You spread out over so much of the bed I nearly had to sleep on the floor.”

“That bed could hold three of you.”

“Or one well-pleased scavenger.” He slid in a hairpin, then bent to touch his lips lightly to the crook of her neck. “Next time I’ll just drape you over me like a blanket.”

“I probably wouldn’t bite you for trying.”

Ben grinned, lifting one hand to rub at the spot she had bitten the night before. “I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

When he tucked the last hairpin into place, nibbling at his bottom lip, he spent a long minute considering his creation carefully- and then he curved his hands over her shoulders, gazing at her reflection. “I’ll see you soon,” he said softly. “Don’t let Prehta move a single pin.”

“I won’t.” She lifted her hands to touch his own. “Very soon, Ben.”

Prehta returned shortly after he had left (stopping momentarily to eye Rey’s hair admiringly) and moved to the garment bag, opening it carefully. Pulling out the dress, she turned to Rey with hope written clearly across her face. “What do you think?” 

Rey stood, moving closer to touch the gauzy surcoat lightly with inexplicably trembling fingers. She had always appreciated Prehta’s creations, and had enjoyed wearing most, but-

“It’s like a garden,” she murmured, throat tight, knowing it was so much more than the obvious comparison. It was the green of Takodana, the rain of Ahch-To, the flickering firelight of the hut where she and Ben had first touched hands. It was the meadow of her vision, and the plants Lando had so kindly sent with her to the _Steadfast-_ and how Prehta had managed such a feat without ever being privy to Rey’s memories felt rather like a miracle all in itself.

“I started it before we even left for Pasaana.” Prehta looked down at the flowers around the neckline, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I knew you would wear it, one day. I just didn’t realize I’d have to finish the last parts in a mad rush.”

“Prehta.” When their gazes met, Rey managed a shaky smile. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Prehta sniffed, blinking rapidly. “Good. Let’s get you into it, then; I may need to make some adjustments.” 

A tuck here, a tuck there, Prehta wielding her needle with expertise and never once grazing Rey’s skin. “I embroidered the sleeves while you were missing,” she admitted at one point. “After the drugs wore off.”

“Did you?”

“I needed a distraction.” She circled Rey slowly, tweaking her skirts straight. “A great deal of distraction.” Prehta met Rey’s gaze squarely, cheeks pink. “Please don’t let him rip it off of you.”

“I,” Rey told her in utter earnestness, “will throw him against the wall if he tries.”

\- - -

When his mother appeared, Ben wasn’t exactly surprised. A little jittery (though he had been before her arrival, waiting for any sign that the bedroom door might open), but unsurprised. 

Her hair, though, did give him pause: no longer a mourning braid, but an elegant and refined style that sparked a vague, undefined memory. She reached out, not quite touching the gentle drape of his over-robe. “Prehta showed me Rey’s dress; you’ll make a lovely pair.” 

“She did?” he asked, still trying to remember the meaning of her braid.

“So that I could arrange for her bouquet. I do like that spot you chose near the waterfall; the flowers there are lovely.” She looked up, suddenly, catching his puzzled frown. “Will you let me braid your hair?”

It was- he thought, looking into her wistful eyes- something she expected him to reject, and he very nearly did. Instead, some long-suppressed desire had him nodding awkwardly in agreement. _I’ll braid your hair for your wedding,_ she had told him more than once when he was young, the refrain stopping the day she had sent him away to the academy. 

“Just something simple,” she said after a pause, looking mildly stunned that he had actually agreed in the moment before he turned to sit at the table. Having her at his back after so long inspired a feeling of intense vulnerability, though he doubted she was about to slide a stiletto into his neck. “Love for… for my boy.”

A tentative silence fell after her words, as if they were both holding their breath in expectation of an unkind follow-up, but in the end neither spoke. For the first time in fifteen years his mother combed her fingers through his hair, the feel alone very nearly shattering Ben’s composure. “You’ve always had lovely hair,” she murmured. “I wondered, for a long time, if you would still keep it long after…”

Her voice briefly trailed off, but then she finished with, “I’m glad you did. The length suits you.”

“Habit,” he said shortly, glad the word came out without a betraying quiver. 

“Hmm.” 

And then memory struck him, as she worked: being a small boy on his mother’s lap, her braiding a new message into his hair as she told him the story of legendary Breha (“My mother was named for her,” she had said, voice wistful), who, when her people and holdings were barraged by raiders, had twined _mercy_ into her long locks, cut off her hair at the nape, and thrown the braid over the castle wall. 

He instinctively tensed, hands clenching into fists beneath the table. “Mother.”

“Yes, Ben?” she replied, sounding a little distracted as her fingers worked. 

Mouth dry, he did his best to swallow the lump in his throat. “I hope that your plea for mercy will not involve later strangling me with your own hair.”

Because Breha, in seeming submission, had welcomed the leader (smugly wearing her braid draped around his shoulders) into her home- and when the drugs in his wine left him snoring in the middle of the great hall, she and her handmaidens had dispatched him with the closest weapon at hand. 

His mother stilled, and even facing away from her he could feel her shock. “Ben,” she managed, voice uneven, “I realize you haven’t studied the patterns in years, but you may want to take a closer look before accusing someone of plotting assassination.” She released the second, half-done braid, taking a seat beside him and turning her face away. “See?”

And he did, after a moment of close scrutiny. No _mercy,_ there, but _accord._ Cheeks heating with a blush- the patterns were really not _that_ similar- he forced himself to relax. 

She turned back to him, an uncertain smile on her face and her eyes searching his. “Someone is bound to comment on my hair- there are still those who understand the patterns, though they are relatively few- and I didn’t want to undermine our partnership by wearing a mourning braid to a wedding.” Her smile disappeared entirely. “Your father would disapprove, in any case.”

When he didn’t immediately answer, she lingered a moment longer before resuming her place behind him, starting anew on his second braid. It was a struggle to say what needed saying, but he eventually asked, “Would you check Rey’s braids?” Her fingers slowed. “Please.”

“Of course.” Her voice was low, and laden with emotion. “You’ve done such a lovely job with her hair so far, Ben.” She joined the first braid to the second, securing them in place, and offered him a small mirror. “Here.”

_Love,_ just as she had said- and if the two braids pulled back from his temple revealed more of his ears than he preferred, he couldn’t find it in himself to argue or pull them out. “Thank you.”

“Will you be walking with her to the site?”

“Yes.” They would start their marriage together, hand in hand. “What are your plans, after this?”

She hummed quietly under her breath, resuming her seat. “Chandrila, I think. I’ll find a house near Hanna City, seek out old colleagues. Be quiet, for a while… unless you need me.” She clasped her hands on her lap, low-level tension in every line of her body. “You have only to send word, if you need me.”

Whatever answer he might have given was lost when the bedroom door opened and Rey stepped over the threshold. Ben heard- as if at a distance- his mother make a pleased sigh, but he barely registered it; he was on his feet and halfway across the room before he even realized that he was moving. 

“What do you think?” Rey asked, her own pleasure evident in her expression. 

She looked like the embodiment of early morning mist in a garden, the first morning light gilding the dew, and he wanted to settle with his head in her lap in some quiet place. “I think that your Prehta is quite the artist,” he answered softly, curving one hand around the back of her neck and bending to press a kiss to her forehead. 

Rey gave his mother a tentative smile when he pulled away, twisting the lapis ring around her finger. “Thank you for planning everything, Leia.”

“It was the most fun I’ve had in years, believe me.” His mother stood, considering Rey intently, and then she circled behind them when they drew close. “Perfect,” she murmured to Ben. “Not one strand out of place.”

And- feeling almost at peace with his mother, after so long at odds- Ben walked hand in hand with his bride out of their quarters, the others falling behind. 

\- - -

“Are you ready?” he asked as they drew near the meadow and the waterfall, lifting their clasped hands to brush his lips over her knuckles. Overhead the system’s sun diffused through the dome, turning the extravagant spill of water into something gleaming and magical and their avenue of trees into a dappled shelter. The small handful of witnesses waiting for them were all- more or less- friends, and trusted. 

Rey slowed her steps, expression soft and vulnerable. “I,” she said quietly, “am very ready to claim you in front of the entire galaxy.” And then she grinned, nose crinkling. “Over and over again, if necessary.”

It was almost painful how much he wanted her to do just that, with words and rings and her own particular brand of stubborn devotion. Rey pulled ahead, surcoat glimmering as she stepped fully into the sunlight, and drew him after her. “Come on, Ben.” Her smile, at that moment, was bright and warm and seemed only for him. “I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey's [wedding dress](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/AWtG96mcHeQpC2tzjY-GLNZziSUMo7VowIui2B9L4d7KizG50LzolEg/) (you can see a shot without the surcoat [here](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451919822584/)). 
> 
> And Ben's hair was definitely inspired by those behind the scenes shots from TFA. 


	27. roots intertwined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for minor self harm.

Rey’s knowledge of weddings was limited. There had been the damaged holo she found when she was thirteen, which had been worth two portions and which had (when she watched the contents) contained a patchy recording of a secret handfasting between star-crossed lovers. There had been the overheard ribald stories from traders about happening across a community mid-celebration, and of being pulled into a dance by a laughing, bright-eyed villager. There had been a handful of hurried marriages during her time with the Resistance, all of which seemed to happen when she was away on a scouting or recruiting mission. Weddings had always seemed a distant, foreign thing that had nothing to do with her, and between waiting and starving and scratching day after day after day away (physically on Jakku, mentally after) she had never really taken the time to consider if maybe she might like to know more. 

It was sweet, though, to be hand in hand with Ben- and while she might not understand his yearning for ritual, proof of belonging was another matter entirely. She would jump from the top of the waterfall screaming in Crolute if that was what it took to claim and be claimed. She would do nearly anything to send out a galactic message that this particular man belonged to _her,_ and anyone who dared harm him would regret it within seconds. 

Her smile and mindset must have taken on a hint of a snarl, because Ben stopped her halfway across the meadow and pulled her against his chest, staring down at her face. “What is it, sweetheart?” he asked in a murmur, with an arm cinched around her waist and one hand against her upper back. 

“Just looking forward to taking care of the mess back at the _Steadfast._” She hooked a finger in his collar, wondering if whoever prepared the holo for release would edit out this segment. “I’ll be happy to have that out of the way.”

“One less thing to worry about.”

“Hmm.” She would, Rey abruptly decided, lick every single one of his moles that night. “What do your braids mean?”

He flushed. “Love.”

“I’ll have to learn that pattern.” She kissed him lightly on the jaw, leaving the faintest hint of her lip-paint behind. “Marry me, Ben.”

Lando met them at the edge of their circle of witnesses, carrying a bundle of flowers which he offered to Rey. “Part of the ceremony,” he explained quietly when she accepted them with pleased interest. “Leia chose the Thanassian variant.” Ben’s startled surprise was evident. “She seemed to think that you would appreciate the choice.” Lando lifted a brow, glancing at Leia as she approached. “You didn’t tell them?”

“We got a little distracted,” Leia explained apologetically. “It wouldn’t be too much trouble to switch, if either of you have a different preference.”

Rey gave Ben a questioning look. “Well?”

“It’s good.” He seemed to be inwardly sifting through muddled, flustered pleasure, as if Leia had remembered something he had thought long forgotten. “That’s fine.” Ben placed a hand against her back, looking toward her with a barely visible quiver to his lower lip. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

They walked together to the center of the circle, meeting the officiant (who, Rey thought with a hidden smile, looked a little overwhelmed to be overseeing their marriage) and turning to face each other. Ben’s hands curved around hers, the flowers between them, and in that moment he visibly calmed: his shoulders straightened, his eyes brightened, the feel of his thoughts leveled. _You were meant for a place exactly like this,_ she heard in her mind, his palms warm against the backs of her hands. 

_So were you._ He deserved softness, and rest, and someone to wholeheartedly guard his back, and she would do so for the rest of her life… a complicated matter, when he would be doing the same for her. A hint of a smile, more feral than before, slipped to the surface. She was scrappier than him. Ruthless, when need be, and she had often had the need.

_You cannot,_ she heard him rumble faintly, _menace me into bed whenever you think I need a nap._

Rey raised a brow. She was barely paying any attention to the ceremony (the officiant, the slightest of quavers to his voice, was saying something about plants and earth and scattering seeds in only one garden), but it was hard to do so when Ben was watching her with such intense, admiring focus. _Are you sure?_ she shot back, pleased by the flicker of amusement from his end of the bond. 

Ben freed one hand, pulling a small blue flower from the mass and carefully sliding it into her hair. “I do take her,” he stated plainly in answer to a question she had not even heard, fingertips grazing the slope of her cheek. 

Maybe, Rey realized with a little bit of panic, she should have asked some _questions_ about how all this worked instead of allowing herself to be carried along, too intrigued by Ben’s naked body to care about practicalities. _Do I-_

_Yes._ He returned his hand to hers, sweeping his thumb over the back of her wrist. _Any flower, sweetheart._

“Do you also take him?” the officiant asked, sounding a little more secure. “As your shade and sunlight, from bud to bloom to decay, roots intertwined?”

_Oh,_ she thought, taking in a quick, happily startled breath at the imagery, her gaze falling on the bouquet. One flower to the left of center caught her eye- pinkish-blue, just beginning to unfurl- and she pulled that one free. “I do claim him.” Ben’s mouth tipped up at the change of words, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “And take him.” 

The bud slid neatly into one braid, brilliant against the black of his hair, and she curved her hand over his. He was quite literally her shade, at that moment: the sun was behind him, casting his shadow over her and melding it with her own. 

And he looked beautiful, with the flower in his hair. He looked _hers,_ and she was tempted to stick six more blooms into his braids, and arrange little bundles in his pockets, and leave smudges of her lip-paint along the side of his neck, all within view of the holocams. She could- 

“It is done.” The sheer relief in the officiant’s voice snapped her back to the moment. “May you never be uprooted.”

_Stars bless Leia for choosing a short ceremony,_ she found herself thinking, pulling Ben down to her level without waiting a second longer (because if Rey knew anything about weddings, it was that they usually involved kissing). The way Ben wrapped his arms around her (the flowers, crushed, releasing a wave of mixed perfume) argued that her move had been the correct one. 

Sound grew distant, time slowed. The moment fixed in her mind, immovable: the brush of his hair against her cheeks; the gentle movement of his mouth, tongue barely touching hers. The warmth of sunlight and the smell of green, the sweep of breeze cooled by the waterfall (her fourth; she would never forget it) rustling the most beautiful fabric in existence against her limbs. 

_Everyone in the galaxy will see this. Us, choosing each other._

Ben pulled back just a little, pressing his forehead to hers. “My wife,” he murmured, sounding awed. 

“My husband.” The word felt good on her tongue, her light laugh close to a giggle. “I should ask Prehta to embroider that on all your robes.”

He grinned, and kissed her slowly once more. “I dare you.”

They were pulled apart by well-wishers, Rey carrying the flowers with her as Rose pulled her into a tight hug, and cradling them close as Prehta smoothed an invisible wrinkle on her sleeve with teary eyes. When a bruised pink bloom fell to the grass, Lando retrieved it before telling her (his smile genuine, his voice quiet), “I would be very happy if you called me _Uncle_ Lando.” Ben, several feet away, was blushingly allowing Leia to remove smears of red from his mouth with a handkerchief, Ylse saying something that inspired a laugh from them both.

The moment felt fragile. Rey had half-expected a last minute catastrophe or a blaster bolt mid-ceremony, but as yet, nothing. 

_Maybe, if we’re very lucky, we’ll have today._

“My lady.” 

Rey turned to Solah, who- like all the knights- wore her helm in the presence of the holocams dancing above. “You know that you can call me Rey.” 

“Ah.” She could hear wry humor, even through the filter. “But I think the honorific annoys you, a little.” 

Rey wrinkled her nose, biting back a _yes._

“My congratulations on your marriage. I’m glad you decided to stay- for Kylo’s sake, as well as for the galaxy’s.” Some of that humor returned. “And while I expect you’ll both insist on running straight into danger at every conceivable opportunity, at the very least my life will never be boring.”

“Probably not.” Rey smiled, hugging her flowers close. “You’ll take off that mask for the meal, I hope.”

“As there will be no cams, yes.” Rey could imagine, beneath the helm, a slight smile. “I might even indulge in more than one piece of cake.”

And Rey- who had not even been aware that cake would be involved, but had developed a definite appreciation for the confection in general since joining forces with Ben- grabbed her husband away from his conversation with Kiren and kissed him out of sheer joy. 

\- - -

The wedding supper turned into a raucous affair, but Ben (Rey on his lap, her surcoat draped over the back of an empty chair and her cleavage distractingly close to his chin) paid attention to very little of it. Far more interesting to watch his wife, who was on her second piece of cake and who only set aside her fork to occasionally weave another flower into his hair. 

“Ben,” she said halfway through her slice, his name barely audible under the noise of five different conversations happening at once, including a loud and reminiscent exchange between Chewie and Lando. “Our wedding.”

He obediently opened his mouth when she offered him her loaded fork, receiving a bite of moist, jam-laced cake. “Hmm?”

“Why did Leia pick those vows?”

The question wasn’t unexpected, given his earlier reaction, nor was it unwelcome. “They’re from Chandrila,” he answered as Rey unashamedly licked the fork clean, a dab of icing at the corner of her mouth. “There’s an island in the southern hemisphere known for its gardens… has been for centuries, actually. When I was eight my family attended a wedding, there.” He paused, thinking back. “The brides looked happy,” he continued in a murmur. “They looked… overjoyed. And I thought the words were pretty, and the flowers.” Not the first wedding he had ever attended, nor the last, but the best in his memory and the only one he had ever talked about after the fact. “I remember thinking that it sounded a lot like the way my uncle always described the Force- the cycle of birth to death, the balance of light and dark- but nicer.” He paused, then admitted in a whisper, “And I wanted to be someone’s sunlight, for once. Even then.”

“You are.” Rey was like a sun in miniature herself, at that moment, body and face and thoughts all warm and bright and _sure._ “My sun and my shade. I promised that, and I meant it.”

When he tightened his grip on her, seriously considering absconding with his wife no matter the teasing that might ensue, her gaze abruptly shifted away. Mouth curling into a smile, she murmured in his ear, “Look very carefully to your right.” 

At first he wasn’t quite sure why the conversation by the window had caught her attention so thoroughly, and then he understood: Prehta and Mitaka standing close enough for her red dress and his black uniform to touch, both blushing as Mitaka tucked what appeared to be a keycard into his pocket. 

“You might have to dress yourself in the morning,” Ben murmured against Rey’s cheek, discretely kissing away the bit of icing. 

“Isn’t that what a husband is for, to help me with my buttons?” She poked him gently in the chest. “By the way, I promised to throw you against the wall if you ripped even a stitch of this dress.” 

“I,” he swore fervently, “wouldn’t dare.”

(Instead, he dropped to his knees and disappeared under her skirts the moment their bedroom door shut, tearing at the seams of her underwear and pleasuring her until she came on his tongue, held up only by his firm grip on her hips.

Instead, he undressed her with delicate precision as she stood on trembling legs, setting aside the dress with as much care as he might give a newborn, and when he lay her down on the bed, their hair still in braids and bedecked with flowers, she held out her arms to him and spread her thighs in eager invitation.

“I think,” she said after with a dazed, satisfied smile, when he was panting in her embrace and softening inside her, “that was four minutes.”

He rolled over to his back, dragging her with him, both of them laughing uncontrollably with petals and hairpins scattered across the sheets.)

\- - -

Rey woke her husband at the break of dawn with her lips and fingers wrapped around his cock, blinking up at him as he stammered her name and wove his fingers through her tangled hair, his head pressing back against the pillows. 

When he pinned her on her belly after she swallowed every drop (not the worst thing Rey had ever tasted, and _stars_ she loved how powerful she felt every time he fell apart), one large hand between her thighs, the feel of his fingers pumping deep and his teeth lightly dimpling her shoulder had her coming with babbling pleas, tear-stained cheek pressed against the sheets. 

“Was that too much?” he asked guiltily when he saw her reddened eyes, gathering her close and clearly thinking _I love it when you bite me._

Feeling wrung out and shaky in the best possible way, she quickly shook her head with a definitive, “_No._”

They fed each other breakfast in bed, crumbs and drops of fruit juice falling to the rumpled covers, and with sugar on her tongue she rode him with slow, deliberate movements, hands planted against his chest. 

Mid-morning, blankets shoved aside, Rey curled up naked under his arm and they examined the messages Leia had forwarded, one by one. 

“There’s nothing to the comm channel or the originating address that points to any one person,” he muttered at the end of the queue. “The language is bare bones, most targets small.”

“For you.” She tapped the edge of the datapad, hearing her own voice flatten and grow remote. “I remember this place. The only way in was a bottleneck, and-”

When she hesitated, his hand smoothed over her hair. “You don’t have to talk about it, sweetheart.”

A rock slide. It hadn’t taken much, just a few bursts of power on the weaker sections of the surrounding cliffs, and the ensuing cascade of stone had buried the sentries on the path below. She could still remember those sparks going out and the abruptly silenced screams; the way Resistance soldiers had scurried down the newly created slope and taken the entire outpost with ease. They had eaten off the rations scavenged there for an entire month. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“We were at war.” His fingertips skimmed down her bicep. “We can only move forward and work for better.”

Blinking away tears, she asked, “Is there anything that these spots all have in common? Or most?”

He mused over that question for nearly a minute, idly continuing to caress her arm- and then he stiffened, flicking back through the messages. “Sympathizers.”

“What?”

Ben looked to her, eyes a little wild. “The officers in charge of these outposts- most of them were in favor of ending the war.” He scrambled out of bed, tossing the datapad aside, and began to pace naked across the floor. “Or weren’t interested in attacking without cause.”

For a long moment she could barely breathe. “What?”

“The first to approach me was General Thyrn.” He ran a hand through his hair, tufting already disordered locks. “She had control of the outpost on Kamino-”

Rey pulled her knees up to her chest, toes curling. 

“-she was the first person to dare confront me after I took control; gave me a very concise, persuasive speech about the merits of coming to some kind of ceasefire, all the while looking like she expected me to execute her at any given second.”

“But you listened.”

“I listened.” He stopped at the far end of the room, facing away from her with one hand pressed flat against the wall. “I was at a point where I was finally ready to listen. Her timing was good.”

“And when she walked away alive, others began to talk, didn’t they?”

“Yes.” Ben turned, features shadowed and weary. “I don’t know why I didn’t see the pattern before.”

First Order officers willing to end the war, and Rey had, directly or indirectly, killed every single one. Her stomach churned, and for the first time in her life she regretted eating so heartily. “So they were influencing you, and that made them a threat.” She plucked at the sheets rather than viciously pinch her own skin. “Because someone had a vested interest in either continuing the war or wiping out the Resistance.”

“Power, money, or both,” he muttered, moving to sit heavily on the side of the bed. “Or just simple cruelty.”

“Or they were doing away with your allies, one by one,” she said quietly. “Those officers would have stood for you, if this Grimtaash attempted a coup.” She ran her thumbnail hard down her thigh, just shy of the pressure needed to break skin. Her throat felt tight and raw. “Hux?”

“Maybe. Some only spoke with me through encrypted comms; whoever arranged all of this has had access to my credentials for far longer than I thought.” Ben stood, hands flexing, his end of the bond such a buzz of frustration and intense thought that it was simple for Rey to tuck her own sick guilt away from his notice. She rubbed her hand over the temporary lines on her leg, trying to obscure them before he could spot her handiwork. “We need to go back.”

“We do,” she agreed, leaving the bed on the side opposite to him. His spend was tacky between her thighs. “I’ll let everyone know.”

They were gone within the hour, the only remnant of their happy days the glimmering silk in Rey’s wardrobe smelling faintly of flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to JaneDrewFinally for pointing out that Rey would definitely ask Prehta to embroider some kind of "property of" message onto Ben's clothing.


	28. guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for continued mentions of self harm.

“Let’s talk.”

The datapad Rey held was briskly snatched away, leaving her blinking at empty hands. Rose, when she looked up, held the datapad behind her back, an expression of frowning concern on her face. “About what?” Rey asked wearily, raking her fingers through unbraided hair. A few strands snagged on her ring, but she barely flinched. 

“About why you look like the bad days.” Rose slammed one hand down on the keypad beside the door, sealing them into the small study aboard the _Spinebarrel._ After carefully placing the datapad on a table, she dropped into the chair nearest Rey’s own. “Just better fed.”

“I’m-”

Rey waved a hand in the air, tucking her feet underneath her and biting the inside of her cheek to stop a yawn. She had woken from muzzy, gray nightmares of Kamino mid night cycle, and had slipped out of bed without even trying to sleep a minute more. Will, caf, and sharp pinches had kept her awake during the long hours since- and other than a hurried talk with Ben, she had been left largely alone. “I’m just mentally preparing myself for this.”

“Yes, and I’m planning a long and expensive vacation on Canto Bight,” Rose replied dryly, pinning her with a stern look that Rey couldn’t help feel might be- perhaps- sisterly. 

Maybe. 

_Not that I would know._

“You look _sad,_” Rose continued bluntly, verbally slamming a knife straight into Rey’s heart. “And not at all like a new bride. Do I need to tase him for you?”

Without meaning to Rey snorted, nails digging into her trousers, and she barely repressed her wince when she hit a sore spot. “If Ben were doing something I didn’t like he would be bleeding.”

“Would he?”

“No,” Rey admitted quietly, then after a pause said, “It would depend.” 

“Uh huh.”

“He hasn’t done anything.”

“Could be taken two different ways.” Rose dragged her chair closer, lowering her voice. “What’s wrong?”

In lieu of answering, Rey asked a question in return. “Are you going to take the position?”

Rose stared at her with obvious annoyance. “Of _course_ I am,” she hissed. “I’ll probably end up murdered within a standard year, but if I make at least one good change between now and then-”

“No one is going to kill you.”

“And if wishes were portions, we’d all eat.” Rose rolled her eyes. “Come on, Rey.”

“No one is going to kill you because we won’t let that happen.” Rey lifted her hand, a bit bemused to see black lint under her nails. “We’re going to give you guards. And whatever weapons you feel comfortable wielding.”

“I’ll happily take whatever taser can drop an oversized beast at fifty paces, but I won’t be distracted from our current conversation.” Rose reached out, gripping her hand. “If he hasn’t done anything, then you need to tell him whatever has you so worried. You _have_ to. Sun and kriffing shade, remember? Both have their harsher sides, and you swore to them- _and_ you both have bigger concerns than most partners.”

Rey knew both- the blazing, draining heat of Jakku’s sun, and the killing shade of the largest Empire hulks. The shadows in those wrecks had a way of lulling scavengers into a sense of complacency, of veiling weak foot and hand holds. “Do you ever feel guilty, Rose?”

A flicker of something unknown passed over Rose’s face. “About what?”

“Killing First Order soldiers. Yourself, or because you… you repaired a ship. Or-”

“Yes.” The word was flat and emotionless. “I can hate what Snoke’s regime did and still hate myself for lives lost. Is that what this is about? You killing stormtroopers?”

“Not exactly.” But that, too. Because there were stormtroopers dead by her doing, and far too many. “Are you hungry?”

Rose looked seconds away from tasing _her._ “Why? Are you?”

“I’m always hungry.” She had eaten a few hours before, but couldn’t quite remember what she had filched from the galley. “I-”

“You should find Ben and eat with him,” Rose interrupted, releasing her. “And actually sleep. We’ll be there within a standard day; you’ll need your wits about you.”

When Rey stood, gathering up her datapad- it would take far too much energy to argue with Rose; stars only knew why Leia hadn’t put her in charge of a squadron- Rose leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Remember,” she said, her voice quiet and reassuring, “he knows what side of the war you fought on. And he knows where you are now.”

Rey lingered. “Those strikes in the year after Crait.”

“What about them?”

After a pause, Rey shook her head. “I regret them, is all.”

Rose looked down at her lap. “Yeah.” Her hands gripped hard at her elbows. “I’m beginning to feel the same way.”

Outside the door Kiren waited, no helm in sight. He met Rey’s gaze before briefly glancing behind her at the door sliding shut, and for the first time since leaving Bespin she felt her mouth quirk into a smile. “We’d like you to guard her for the foreseeable future,” she told him, catching a flicker of startled pleasure in his expression. “Not everyone will be pleased with our new advisor.”

A small, wry laugh escaped him. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Perhaps you should talk to her about it.” Rey took a few steps away, her smile slipping once he could no longer see her face. “Logistics, that kind of thing.”

Then she turned on a thought, lowering her voice. “Though you can refuse the assignment. You do have that choice.”

He glanced both ways down the empty corridor, and answered in an equally low voice, “I would be uneasy, leaving her alone when she will almost certainly face at least one attempt on her life. Guarding her would be an honor, provided you understand that I would not be able to solely consider her my charge.” He hesitated. “She’s… a friend.”

“All of you seem to like her.”

“She plays a deadly game of sabacc,” he said lightly. “You do know that, as the only advisor with a knight as a bodyguard, you will be making it very clear that she is a favorite.”

“I know.” Rey could hear the tinge of weariness in those words, and tightened her grip on the datapad lest it slip from her hands. “She’s my friend, too. I won’t distance myself from her, and I won’t leave her to face danger alone. I’d give her the usual cohort of stormtroopers- and will- but stormtroopers can be bribed. You can’t.”

“No,” he agreed. 

“But if… feelings… become an impediment,” she continued carefully, “on either side, I expect to be informed so that I can make different arrangements.” She leveled a fierce look on him. “Even positive feelings, Kiren.”

One corner of his mouth nearly twitched up. “I understand.”

“Good.” She could feel Ben coming along a further stretch of their same corridor, and knew he was searching for her. Useless to lead him on a chase throughout the ship; she would meet him in the middle, close to their own quarters. “Talk to her, if you would- she should know before we arrive, and have a chance to refuse.”

_And she might,_ Rey mused as she headed toward her husband. She was still faintly surprised Rose had agreed to the position at all.

Ahead Ben rounded a corner, hair tousled as if he had spent far too much time aggrievedly running his fingers through it. His expression and mood lightened, though, on seeing her, his end of the bond free of some of that thrumming rush of thought that had been a constant white noise in Rey’s head for the day and night cycles they had spent traveling. When they met- his steps lengthening, covering two-thirds of the space between them- he reached out and took her shoulders. “Sweetheart.” There were shadows under his eyes, much as there were shadows under hers, but his smile on inspecting her outfit was soft. “You look better in that sweater than I ever did.”

“We’ll have to disagree on that.” She met his gaze straight on, carefully keeping her mindset even and bland. “Have you eaten?”

He frowned, slightly, and then pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss against her hair in the middle of the corridor for anyone to see. _Not,_ Rey supposed with a burst of sudden and brief happiness, _that anyone here would be particularly surprised._ A few had attended their wedding, the rest were certainly aware.

“I’ve been distracted,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Our discovery was surprising.” He smelled good, her husband. It was nice to just lean into his solidly muscled form and close her eyes, even for a moment. “Do you want to talk in private?”

“Yes.” Ben pulled away, drawing her toward the door of their quarters with her right hand in his left (and when he noticed the strands of hair still caught in her ring, she felt the blip in his thoughts). “I arranged for a meal,” he said unnecessarily when they entered, platters already on the table set for two. 

Rey sat because it was expected of her, setting her datapad aside. “I’ve been looking through the protocols and schematics you sent me,” she said as she made a show of considering the wealth of food, not really taking in what was what. “There are very few beings who could bypass all those shifting levels of security to find your access codes even once, let alone multiple times.”

“I know.” Instead of taking the seat across from her he sank to his knees at her side, arms crowding her lap and lashes veiling his eyes. “You’re upset.”

“Not with you.”

When she cupped his cheek he leaned into her hand, watching her consideringly. “Do you wish we had run away, Rey?”

“No,” she answered honestly, thumb smoothing over the prickle of new growth on his skin. “I’m…”

She took in a shuddering breath. “Ben, all of those coordinates Grimtaash sent after Crait-”

“You were there.” He kissed her palm when she gave him a wide-eyed look, his hand settling over the back of her own and his elbow inadvertently poking a self-inflicted bruise. “I already knew that.”

“You did?”

“Holocams, sweetheart.” Ben bit lightly at the meat of her palm, eyes pleading. “I watched every one.”

Her voice came out in a whisper. “They died because of me. Those sympathizers.”

“No,” he rebutted firmly but gently. “Grimtaash used the Resistance, and they used you.” He came to a crouch, moving his hands to rest lightly on her thighs. “Is that what has you so unsettled?”

“I-”

Rey paused, licking dry lips, and whispered “Yes.”

“Wife.” The title was clearly an endearment, and on his tongue somehow sweeter than even his customary _sweetheart._ “I don’t blame you for any of that, nor should you blame yourself.” He rose enough to kiss her forehead, hands cupping her face. “Will you eat with me? We’ll figure out a plan, and then sleep.”

“Yes.” A little dazed, his kiss still warm against her skin, she watched him sit across from her. “You have some ideas.”

He broke a piece of bread in half, crumbs falling to the tabletop unheeded. “We’re going to arrive in the middle of the night cycle.”

Rey placed a heaping spoonful of some kind of vegetable on her plate, nodding slowly. “Yes.”

“Perhaps we call a Council meeting the moment we arrive.”

She met his gaze. “Will they all be there?”

“Most likely.” He pushed a platter loaded with meat closer to her in a coaxing manner, and smiled when she speared a large piece with her fork. “They know we’re returning, and would expect a meeting soon- but not necessarily in the small hours.”

“Would someone as prepared as Grimtaash slip over just a little lack of sleep?”

“No.” Ben glared at his own plate, which held only broken bits of bread. “I’m proposing a… a campaign of unexpected maneuvers. Odd hours. Keeping them- the Council, Hux, Pryde- close when they would normally see to other matters.”

“Bewildering them with Rose Tico?” she asked with an unsteady smile. 

“A bonus, but not my main reason.” He unbent enough to add more food to his own plate, and in a far more graceful manner than Rey’s own stab and dump. “She’s taking the position, then?”

“Yes, and I already asked Kiren to act as her main guard.” The meat, whatever it was, nearly melted in her mouth. Talking around the large bite, she added, “I haven’t heard her shouting angrily about it yet, so that might work.”

“This entire ship is sound-proofed.” 

“We’d feel the waves of rage.”

“We would.” Under the table his foot nudged hers. “What do you say, wife?” Ben was smiling again, but in a way that made her want to kiss his anxiety away. “Shall we make our enemy just as flustered as they’ve made us?”

She swallowed her mouthful of greens. “We risk looking like petty nerfherders.”

“The terrible thing about ruling a galaxy is that there’s always a crisis somewhere.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, expression weary. “It’s not like we’ll be dragging them there to advise us on paint colors.”

“Then I say yes.” She reached out, touching the fingers of his right hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about… that… earlier.”

“I didn’t give you an opening. I’m sorry, too.”

A tear dripped down her cheek, and she didn’t wipe it away. “Will you braid my hair before we arrive?”

His voice was choked when he responded, eyes darting briefly to her loose hair. “Yes.” And then he was on his feet, coming toward her. “Just one,” Ben murmured when she looked up at him. “I’ll do new after we sleep.”

She fiddled with her napkin, staring at her plate. “I don’t know how to be married.”

“My own example wasn’t always ideal.” His fingers were in her hair, moving swift and sure. “We’ll figure this out together.”

When he was finished- and _only_ when he was finished, because Rey knew that even as her way of loving was to press food and water on him, his was to braid secret messages into her hair- she caught him around the waist, arms tight and face pressed against his stomach. “My Ben.”

The flood of joy from him was evident, tingling from the top of her head to her toes. “My Rey.”

(“My Rey,” he murmured again in a far different tone when she reluctantly took off her trousers, dropping to his knees and examining the marks on her thighs with his hands suspended just over her skin. Their memories meshed, at that moment- him pounding his fist against his wounded side on Starkiller, his perspective overlaying hers dizzyingly- and he looked up at her with deep, sorrowful understanding. 

“I don’t know why I did it,” she said softly, feeling as if she were both lying and telling a profound truth at the same time.

“I know.”

He smoothed ointment over her bruises, and still wearing his sweater she pressed herself against his back in bed, the nape of his neck smelling like her own personal spot.)

\- - -

He slept well enough to forget (dreaming of their meadow wedding, and Rey with flowers in her hair, and the softness of their Bespin bed), and though he woke without aid remembering came in bits and pieces. Rey was buried under the blankets when his alarm finally chimed and the lowest light-setting clicked on, her muffled grumble at the sound tugging his mouth into a sleepy smile. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, searching her out under the covers and coming first across her bare belly, his sweater rucked up around her ribs. “We have a number of people to irritate.”

She squirmed under his touch. Lifting the blankets, he met her squinting gaze. “Sweetheart.”

“I know.” Rey blinked, annoyance evident. “I was having a good dream.”

“Hmm?” Moving closer, he nearly stroked his hand down her thigh before remembering her bruises, dark and livid. With a pang of guilt (had he driven her to that? Had his own past behavior _taught_ her that?), he looped his arm around her waist instead. 

“We were swimming.” She nestled against him, eyes slipping shut. “Will you teach me how to swim, Ben?”

“Yes.” He would let her sleep for hours more, if he could, but-

“Don’t fall back asleep, Rey.”

She levered herself up with a grumpy hiss, scratching at her side. “I know.”

Grabbing his comm when she headed for the fresher (to stop himself from pulling her back into bed, from tucking her back under the covers), he checked his messages and found the usual slew of memos and briefings, including one message from the head of PR very nearly begging for guidance on how he preferred to address the rumors of his parentage. One line, at the very end, sent a chill running through him: _There are also questions as to your possible involvement in the massacre at Skywalker’s Jedi Academy._

“Kriff,” he muttered, feeling Rey’s mood turn quizzical at his spike of panic. When she returned a minute later he was pulling the first clothing he found out of his portion of the wardrobe, dropping them onto the rumpled bed.

“I’m no Prehta,” she said after giving the pile a quick look, “but you might want to add at least a cowl.”

He looked down, a belt in his hand, and managed a semblance of a smile on realizing that she was right- in his haste he had pulled out only a black undershirt. Letting the belt fall to the floor, he took in a deep breath and perused his options more carefully. “We have our pretense for the meeting, I think.” He pulled out a tunic of unrelieved black, one without even a hint of softness in its lines. “It appears I’m about to be blamed for the murders of my fellow students at the academy.”

She took the tunic from his hands, tossing it onto the bed. “Have you considered telling everyone what Snoke did to you?” she asked gravely. “The early years, not just… not just how you took your new name.”

He laughed unsteadily. “Hard enough to tell you, Rey.”

She hugged him tight, pinning his arms at his sides. “I know,” Rey whispered, brushing a kiss over his chest. “We could discuss something else, then. Slavers. Orphanages. Poe’s trial.”

Not even trying to free himself, he laid his cheek against her half-undone braid. “No. This won’t wait… and the longer we go without addressing the question, the more the rumors will fly.”

“Well.” She drew back, standing there barefoot and bruised and utterly confident. “Let’s get ready, then.”

He braided _conqueror_ into her hair, each pin tipped with a tiny, faceted fire gem.


	29. a return

Going against all precedent, their arrival was not announced to the fleet at large. Those on shift at the _Steadfast_ knew only at the last possible moment, and so they strode down the landing ramp to stormtroopers half in formation, flustered officials still straightening cuffs and jackets. Hux, Ben was grimly satisfied to notice, had a tuft of hair sticking straight up, as if he had only rolled out of his bunk mere minutes before. Pryde was nowhere to be seen. 

“My lord,” Hux gritted out, clearly wishing to snap something offensive and barely holding himself back. “Finally you return.”

“Have you been pining for my presence, Hux?” Ben asked in a low, dry voice, Rey radiating quiet amusement beside him. “I would have forgone my wedding, if I had known.”

There was a bubble of silence, and then whispers began to travel outward in ripples of surprised shock. As Hux stiffened further, Ben realized with no little amazement that the news of their marriage had somehow _not_ been leaked to the universe at large. 

_Pity we can’t govern with only those with us on Bespin,_ he heard Rey think in his direction, her mental voice a grumble. 

Allowing himself one small, smug smile, Ben placed a hand against her lower back. “Your Empress, Hux. I believe a bow would be appropriate.”

The other man clenched his jaw, but dipped his head in the smallest obeisance he could get away with. “My felicitations on the happy occasion.” Hux’s gaze flicked to Rey, his usual expression of haughty disapproval containing a spark of excitement. “A long honeymoon is in the offing, I suppose?”

“Now?” Ben nearly laughed aloud at Rey’s feigned wide-eyed shock. “With everything in such a state?”

“I’m sure-”

Hux froze mid-sentence, staring behind them at the landing ramp. Knowing exactly who approached, Ben murmured, “Perhaps you remember meeting our new advisor?”

“_Her?_” Hux hissed in disbelief when Rose stopped at Ben’s left side, her expression- when Ben chanced a quick glance- one of steely-eyed challenge. “She’s… she’s Resistance _scum._” He clearly realized a second too late that the terminology technically applied to more than just Rose and backpedaled furiously. “She once compromised the security of the entire fleet.”

“I believe I did that a time or two,” Rey mused. “I’m sure you remember, husband.”

“It was kind of you both to so thoroughly point out our design flaws,” Ben replied smoothly, and when Hux’s gaze shifted somewhere over Rose’s head added, “Councilor Tico will have an escort for the foreseeable future.”

Hux was a blank, in front of him, revealing nothing more than a somewhat elevated level of his customary tight-fisted irritation. “I see.”

“Inform the rest of the Council we will be meeting within the hour.” With Rey’s hand on his arm, Ben made to sweep away- but her grip on him tightened, slightly, giving him pause. 

“Where is Pryde?” she asked Hux in a coolly questioning tone. “Sick?”

A fleeting note of what appeared to be dark satisfaction slipped over Hux’s face, but it was so quick that even Ben questioned whether or not he had seen it. “He has been called away to his homeworld, my lady, on emergency family leave.”

It was not until they had reached their quarters- knights and Rose and Prehta in tow- and they had performed a quick sweep for hidden cams and bugs that Ben said quietly, “Pryde has no living family.”

“Nor is he the type to sit by a relative’s deathbed,” Solah added, leaning back against the stretch of wall closest to the door with her helm at her hip. “Which means he is either plotting elsewhere or dead.” 

Rey looked up from inspecting her plants, a frown on her face. “Well, the latter would narrow down our list of suspects.” When Ylse snorted, Rey lifted one shoulder in a tired shrug. “You were thinking the same thing.”

“Yes,” Ylse admitted easily, “though I won’t be satisfied that he _isn’t_ a threat until I see his corpse, or we find sufficient proof. I don’t like the uncertainty of having him stars only knows where.” She pointed a finger at Prehta, who looked rather unnerved to have the attention of all on her so unexpectedly. “You’ve tailored his uniforms.”

Prehta blinked, the shawl she held clenched tight in her hands. “Yes? I-”

Ben saw the way she looked to Rey and the reassuring smile she received in return. Prehta’s shoulders straightened. “That was my _job,_ before Rey hired me. I didn’t have a choice who I worked with.”

“I’m not accusing you of conspiracy, little butterfly,” Ylse said dryly, a wicked grin appearing on her face when Prehta blushed. “I was merely building up to asking if he ever dropped any interesting information around you.”

Rey felt as if she dearly wanted to laugh, though all Ben saw on her face was an almost believable expression of stern warning. Prehta huffed, dropping the shawl onto a nearby table. “The man was a stone,” she informed them all irritatedly. “Never said a single word to me, in welcome or otherwise. I accidentally stuck him with a pin, once, and all he did was glare.” She paused, then added, “Actually, that was the last time I was ever assigned to him. I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t order my dismissal. Hux slapped a stylist for nicking him with a pin.”

“_What?_” The growled word ripped itself from Ben’s throat before he quite realized it, but he didn’t regret his own impetuosity; instead he marched toward Prehta, lowering his voice to ask, “Was that assault reported?”

She was past fear, when it came to him. Her lips thinned, and she gave a short shake of her head. “It was during Snoke’s reign. Ilthan- that was his name- died on the _Supremacy._”

Ben rubbed thumb and forefinger together furiously at his side, taking a step back from her. “If you would not mind sending me his full name,” he said in a carefully measured tone, “I would like to check and see if… if his family was sufficiently taken care of.”

There were so many stories like that, he knew. Stylists, mechanics, janitors, cooks; all manner of service staff without whom the First Order would grind to a halt and yet were always overlooked. Disposable, under Snoke. 

_You’ve made good changes,_ he heard faintly from Rey, who moved to his side with a stomp of her boots. _We’ll make better ones, together._ She laid her hand against his sleeve, nails digging into quilted fabric. “Olen, I want you to guard Prehta.”

The woman in question folded her arms across her chest. “What?”

“Other than _Ben,_” Rey said firmly, leaning a little into him, “there is no one else in the First Order who sees me so often or so informally. You’ve already been drugged; someone may well try to kill or abduct you.” She held Prehta’s gaze for a long moment, and even without the bond Ben would have been able to sense the tension between them. “I’d like you to live, and not just because I depend on you.”

Rey wanted to say more, Ben could tell, but was clearly saving the rest for a private moment. “I agree,” he said quietly, wrapping an arm around his wife. “You are not replaceable, Prehta.”

She bit her lower lip, looking to the side, and then dipped her head in a nod. “Fine,” she muttered, flicking a glance toward Olen. “That might be wise.”

Rose- who had been stroking the soft blanket draped over the back of the couch, looking rather as if any remaining questions she might have had about Ben and Rey’s relationship had been answered by that pop of luxurious comfort and color in the midst of sleek black and white- stood, rolling her shoulders. She had refused Prehta’s offer of new clothing (“Let them see who I am, first; you can polish me up later”), and wore a pair of coveralls from her Resistance days. “Are we ready?”

_Sweetheart?_

Rey took in a deep breath, and then she was meeting his gaze with a stalwart expression. “We’re ready.”

\- - -

For the first time since hiring Prehta she had dressed herself for a public occasion, though Rey had still asked for her opinion well before the _Spinebarrel_ had docked. “What mood are you going for?” Prehta had asked, touching two fingers to her bottom lip in a thoughtful manner. 

“Emergency night cycle meeting shortly after returning from elsewhere.”

One corner of Prehta’s mouth had tipped up. “The care given to your hair belies that, but I doubt any of them would know he does your hair, instead of me.” She had paused, giving Rey a long look. “Is that a secret?”

Rather than answer blindly or reach out over the bond, Rey had actually gone in search of Ben, who was one room over and hunched over his datapad. “Is my hair a secret?”

He had blinked up at her, body straightening only to slump back in his seat. “I want,” he had said in a low, velvet voice, “everyone in the galaxy to know that _my_ fingers put up and take down your hair.” And then he had grimaced, rolling his eyes. “Except for when we have to separate, in which case I relinquish the honor to Prehta.”

Prehta, who had merely said, “Ah,” when Rey relayed a summation of that comment. And then, “We’ll add a necklace. That fire gem pendant he gave you.”

It was rather nice, to stomp alongside Ben as they made their way toward the meeting. The shoes paired with her dresses, comfortable as they were, rarely allowed her to announce her imminent arrival in such a forceful manner- and when Ben’s silent, laughing thoughts seemed to curl around her, she flicked a challenging gaze in his direction. _What?_

_Seconds from showing your teeth, darling._

That was a new pet name, and one that settled warm along her bones. Darling, sweetheart, wife, and- she grinned, hands tucked in her pockets- scavenger. Only two were true, in her mind, but if Ben wanted to call her darling and sweetheart she would indulge in his affectionate exaggeration. “Pity I can’t tear them all to shreds,” she murmured, and his thoughts slipped over hers like a warm caress. 

“This from the woman who refused to let me eviscerate Poe Dameron.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then slid a glare in his direction. “That’s different.”

His tone, when he answered, was oh-so-gentle and light. “How so?”

“He only got a hold of _me._” 

Ben’s hand settled at her back, and while his spoken words were uninflected she could practically hear his satisfied purr over the bond. “So if he had abducted me…”

She clenched her jaw, refusing to answer, and heard his soft chuckle.

Their Council- all present save Xors Driigo, attending to business on his homeworld- stood as they entered, most still adjusting the lines of hastily pulled on clothing or smoothing back odd tendrils of hair. There was an air of flustered, anxious excitement to the room, as if their entrance had broken up a heated discussion. 

“General Hux informed us of the happy news,” Cass said before anyone else could speak. She appeared to be the calmest person present, at that moment, though there were dark shadows under her eyes. “Congratulations on your marriage, my lord, my lady.” She tilted her head slightly to one side. “What title will Lady Rey be taking?”

“We were considering Empress,” Rey said as Ben pulled out a chair for her. She met Rose’s eyes and gestured to the chair at her right. “With a change of title for my husband, as well.” 

She had very nearly called him _Ben,_ at that moment, but managed to stop herself with no more than an odd beat of silence. Min nodded brusquely, taking her own chair the moment after Ben settled into his. “Hard to have two Supreme Leaders,” she said without complaint, though- like the rest- she was watching Rose with a degree of suspicion. “I’ll work with the PR department; we’ll need to smooth over memories of the last Emperor.”

“Play up the romance and their desire to rule equally,” Deze said, looking as if it pained her, a little, to even bring up the concept of love. “I hope you arranged for at least a few holos of the occasion.”

“The entire event was recorded by four different holocams. You should have plenty of material to work with.” Under the table Ben’s hand closed over Rey’s knee, and though to any outside observer he appeared cool and implacable, his thumb stroked small, nervous circles against her trousers. “Our marriage, however, is not the reason for this meeting, nor did we call you out of your beds to introduce you to your newest colleague.”

There was a shift around the table, clothing rustling and minute, restrained emotion flickering over the faces of nearly everyone in Rey’s view. Interesting, that Hux had passed on news of their marriage but not of who accompanied them. “Rose Tico, from Hays Minor,” she said, picking up where Ben had left off with a nod to Rose. No one said a word, but Rey could _feel_ that everyone understood the import of Rose’s homeworld, and that few were comfortable with the implications. “We believe she has much to contribute.”

Sul’s gaze skittered over the Resistance patches still very visible on Rose’s clothing, his response, when it came, an unconvincing “I welcome our new member.”

Min’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Would you be the same Rose Tico who had… an altercation… with General Hux?”

“I bit him,” Rose said bluntly. “He’s lucky I only got a hold of his finger.”

Cass wore a faint smile. “Happy as I am to welcome you into our fold- and as entertaining as your version of that story would be- I am curious why we are here.” She held Rey’s gaze for a long moment, then abruptly looked to Ben. “Would it have anything to do with the sudden interest in your parentage, my lord?”

Whatever ill-will or curiosity had been in the air at Rose’s introduction disappeared- because Rose, Rey thought grimly, was a potentially short-lived irritant in their eyes. _Thank the stars for Kiren._

“That, and everything that comes with it.” Ben squeezed her knee, releasing when Rey curved her own hand over his. “Because I _am_ Ben Organa-Solo, a name that comes with-”

He hesitated, expression stormy. “-with a great deal.” No one looked particularly surprised by the admission; clearly they had all together or individually come to grips with the growing rumors. “And now we must deal with the past when we would be better served by looking to the future.”

A beat. “Patricide,” Deze said in an emotionless voice, “is generally frowned upon.” 

Silence fell, and with it came a further edge to Rey’s temper. “Leia is willing to stand by him. Us.”

“On some planets that would be termed a miracle,” Cass said gravely, folding her hands together on the tabletop. “We need her here.”

“No,” Rey and Ben said simultaneously, Rey’s voice nearly a growl. 

“We _do,_” Min picked up, leaning toward them in her seat. “Not forever, but for a visit. Holovids of her arrival, of fond family moments, of you both giving her a tour without a retinue of guards.” She rapped her fist on the table, eyes bright. “She needs to _touch_ you. Push strands of hair out of your eyes. Pat your cheek. Be motherly.”

Rey could feel a kind of queasy anxiety building in Ben, his outward expression verging on a mild sulk. “Asking my mother,” he said in a low voice, “to playact affection would do no one any good.”

Leia would, Rey knew, if asked- and Rey suspected that on Leia’s side every caress would be honest and tinged with guilt. 

_Can’t,_ she heard from Ben, the thought not necessarily directed toward her. _Can’t can’t can’t._ Shreds of memory slipped through: being small and receiving a particular kind of public smile from a much younger Leia, her hand on his hair as a holocam zoomed in so close that he flinched back. 

“She attended our wedding.” Rey’s voice was forceful enough to draw everyone’s attention. “And was happy to be there. Start with that.”

Min blinked, and then nodded and began tapping notes into her datapad. “Of course.”

“What of Skywalker?” The question came from Cass. “Is he truly dead?”

“Yes.”

“Not at Ben’s hand,” Rey said when it was clear he had no intention of saying anything more. He had been right, that this conversation theoretically rated an emergency meeting, but the _cost-_ Rey was not sure either of them had truly considered the cost. 

“Not technically,” he muttered. “If he had resisted the urge to beam himself across the galaxy solely to be dramatic he may yet be alive today.”

“Solely?” Rose asked in an arch, amused tone, manner more casual toward him than any of the other advisors dared. Disapproval was evident in the thin line of Deze’s mouth and the set of Sul’s shoulders- and when Ben slid Rose a glance, his own mouth curving into a small, reluctant smile, that disapproval deepened.

“Well,” Cass said briskly, “attempting to ruin his reputation would be useless. The man is mythic and far too beloved; all we can do is make it clear how much you regret your last battle and how… explosively… you left his guidance all those years ago. A memorial at the site of the academy, I think. A fervent apology with-”

“Excuse me.” Rey, awash with a pain that was not her own, barely recognized her own voice, which rang out harsh and bitterly cold and caused even Cass’s eyes to widen in shock. “The man,” she said slowly, coming to her feet and pressing her hands flat against the table, “was an _ass._ And a grumpy one, at that.”

Min, as far back in her seat as she could manage, hissed, “We cannot say that about Luke Skywalker.”

“You would have a year ago,” Rey pointed out, every muscle tense. “And I’m not going to let you blame my husband for the kriffing academy when Luke caused that whole mess to begin with.”

“_Luke Skywalker_ murdered his own students?” Sul asked in disbelief. “No one would ever accept that explanation. We’d have whole systems rising up against us.”

“Kriff,” Min muttered, looking as if she had just remembered a key piece of information. “This is going to start the Vader discourse all over again.”

There was a moment- an unsteady, precarious moment- that caused Rey to catch her breath as she eyed each being at the table in turn, waiting for someone to shatter what little peace remained. 

And then, unexpectedly, a voice from behind her rocked everything into a new and uneasy balance. “It was the previous circle of knights.” Solah said, words clipped and underlaid with a faint hiss. “I was merely a trainee, then, but I was there.”

Ben was the only one not to turn toward the woman at his back, his gaze still somewhere in the middle distance. He had known, clearly- there was no surprise there, no shock in his mind- and Rey curved a hand over his shoulder. 

“Snoke sent them to retrieve his prize, and to destroy everything in their wake,” Solah continued flatly. “They did their job well.”

_They_ as opposed to _we-_ and though Rey had never asked for a full history of the knights, that slipped naturally into her understanding of them. Stolen children and young adults, beaten down and manipulated until they assumed the position of their predecessor with pride. Solah, and Ylse, and Olen and Kiren and Dehl… and Ben. 

“And his prize,” Cass murmured, “was the beloved son and nephew of the three greatest heroes of the war.”

Rey sensed bitter, bruised amusement from Ben, but he did not directly address that statement. Instead, as if commenting on the weather, he said, “I do not remember a great deal about the journey.”

As several of their advisors began to speak at once, enlivened by possibilities (“Could we skew his age younger?” Min was musing. “A small boy, jerked away from doting uncle and shoved into bewildering circumstances?”), Rey sat, folding one of Ben’s hands in hers. 

_Cold,_ she thought with a little panic, chafing his hand carefully between her own. She had never known Ben to run cold; he was so often the pleasant, cozy warmth of a kind sun. 

They survived the meeting (with no comfortable conclusion, no agreement, everyone at odds), and returned to their own quarters, Kiren guiding Rose only a few doors down and disappearing inside with her. 

“Sweetheart,” Ben said wearily, “I think that flustered me more than any of them.”

“It’s just round one,” she countered, shoving him down onto their bed and kneeling to pull off his boots. They only had a few hours, at best, before the day cycle would begin; she would take what they could get. “And it was personal, for you.”

When he didn’t answer- falling back onto the mattress, instead, his long legs sprawled over the floor- she moved to the bed, straddling his belly. “Do you want to show me?”

_Panic, old but still fierce enough to flood their mouth with the taste of iron. They ached and bled after two unexpected attacks in quick succession, but in the distance familiar voices lifted in screams and sobs and they were running to help, stumbling over tree roots and straining to catch their breath as flames inexplicably curled high in the air from every roof they could see._

_They were tackled to the dirt, one tooth knocked loose, a strength beyond anything they had ever known pinning them flat. Cuffs around their wrists, pinning arms back, and a null where there had once been sprawling reach. “You did this,” came a hissing whisper as fire bloomed out the windows of the main building. “We’re here just for you.”_

_They knew. They understood, as they were dragged away and dropped half-insensible in front of a wide-eyed, dark-haired girl who held a package of bacta strips. They accepted the guilt, and they bowed to shimmering gold and poisoned lies._

“No!” Rey spat, jerking from memory to glare down at him. “You didn’t _do_ that, Ben.”

“That was true, though.” He closed his eyes, skin paler than usual, his moles standing out in stark relief. “They were there for me.”

“As if Snoke would have let Luke’s academy flourish.” Rey snorted, holding tight to his tunic. “He would have come for him one way or another, with or without you.”

“Thank you for that boost to my ego, sweetheart.”

“Ben.”

“I-”

He looked at her briefly, lashes fluttering, before closing his eyes again. “What are you going to do?”

She thought instinctively of how she had bruised her thighs and raked her nails across tender skin, and wondered- maybe- if his question was the emotional version of self-castigation. Snoke would have figuratively flayed the skin from his body, just as Jakku would have deprived her of food and water for daring to breathe. “This,” she answered, and laid down on top of him, lips pressed to his cheek and arms and legs winding around him. “Just this.”

He shuddered underneath her, and then he was crying silently, tears slipping between his skin and her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's outfit](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451914551973/), but all in black and with a different necklace. 


	30. on ice

“Do you need me to move?” 

“No,” Ben said in a raspy voice, wrapping his arms around her back and closing aching eyes. “I like having you right here.”

She laughed softly. “Compressing your lungs?”

“It’s comforting, being pinned down by you. Being held by you. Like wearing very possessive armor.”

Rey wriggled a little on top of him, pressing a kiss to the line of his jaw. “I once,” she whispered, scattering kisses over his moles, “found an intact holo optimizer while scavenging. Couldn’t take it to Plutt on the same day; it was already dark. So I took it home and slept on top of it.” 

He caught a flash of visceral memory: sharp edges pressed against ribs, and neatly defined bruises the next morning. “I hope I’m more comfortable than that.”

“Much. My point being, I’m used to keeping close to what I find precious.” She nipped teasingly at his throat. “And since I intend to keep you indefinitely, you’re going to have a very clingy bed-partner for the foreseeable future.”

He cupped one hand over the back of her neck, running his thumb over soft skin and the tender wisps of hair at her nape. “Thank you. For keeping me.”

“Ben.” A hint of tears, in her voice, as she pressed her face to his shoulder. “You keep me. In a good way.” She hiccuped, then said, “I want you to wear a ring.”

“Ah.” He was going to cry, again, but it looked like she might join him in the newest round. Reaching out a hand- he could get up, but that would mean disturbing Rey- he jerked at a drawer with a surge of power, nearly dislodging it entirely. A small box lifted into the air, pulled into his hand with enough force that he both heard and felt the impact. “I didn’t think I would need them, when we left,” Ben explained, waiting for her to pull back, her forearms on his chest, to proffer the box. “If you don’t like them we can choose others.”

Rey rolled off of him, snatching the box as she went. “Sit back against the pillows.”

It was only after he did so- missing her weight, her closeness- and she had removed her own boots that she joined him, straddling his lap with box still in hand. “When did you buy them?”

Slipping his hands under her layers, he averted his eyes. “Before Bespin.”

“The first time?”

“Yes,” Ben admitted on a shuddering sigh. “I thought… I thought they’d gather dust, but I couldn’t pass them by.”

And the fact that the shopkeeper had never let slip that the Supreme Leader had bought a pair of wedding bands was, to his mind, inexplicable. He had been disguised, at the time, but that had never stopped most from recognizing him before. Maybe it had just seemed too fantastical to leak.

Rey cracked open the box, staring intently at the contents- and then she pulled out the larger band, holding it up to the light. “Give me your hand,” she murmured, and when he did so she frowned down at his fingers. “Which one?”

“This one, sweetheart.” He wiggled the digit, feeling as if his heart were in his throat. 

“I’m still considering asking Prehta to add all manner of embroidery to your robes,” she confessed softly as she slid the ring over his knuckles, nestling it snugly against the base of his finger. “That looks good,” she continued, gaze firmly fixed on black and gold against the pale skin of his hand. “Everyone will see it.”

“Do I get to put one on you?”

“Yes.” Reluctantly she let him go, but there was a smile on her face when she extended her hand. “I want everyone to know, Ben. That we’re a pair, and that we fight back to back.”

“Everyone will know.” He had asked Prehta to have the ring sized, after Rey hired her, and as promised the fit was perfect. “Everyone is going to see you in that beautiful dress, and I’m going to make sure they keep in the part where you _claimed_ me.”

“You loved it.” 

“I did. Come closer, sweetheart.”

Rey lay against him, slipping her arms between him and the pillows. She felt as if she had a question on the tip of her tongue, one she wasn’t quite sure whether to ask- and guessing what it might be, he answered. “That was the first time I met Solah,” he murmured, running his newly beringed hand up and down her spine under her clothing. “She patched me up that day, and the next time I saw her she plowed her fist into my face. Sparring,” he clarified when Rey stiffened. “No holds barred. The knights were far more brutal before I took control.”

“I’m not suspicious of her anymore,” Rey replied. “I’m just… what’s mine is mine. I’ve only ever had to safeguard _things_ before, never people. I’m learning.”

“Me, too.”

“I’m glad she took care of you, that day. And I’m glad you had each other, during those long years- because I think you all protected each other.” She sat back, considering him. “Didn’t you? Everyone thought you were just… just tolerating one another, but your connection was deeper.”

“We…”

Ben paused, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t know how,” he said finally, voice thready. “We were always being thrown at each other. None of us were there by choice, not really. We were supposed to be a perfect, emotionless fighting squad.”

“But you survived, together.” There was a yearning, in her, one so strong that he flexed his hand against her back in sympathy. “I should give them cake.”

“A true prize, from you.” He resumed his caresses, fingertips trailing over the bumps of her spine. “You have people now, Rey. Not just me.”

She smiled, at that. “I know. Friends worth waiting for.”

“I wish you hadn’t been made to wait.”

Rey snuggled back into him, breath hot against his neck. “I’m good at waiting,” she murmured. “And there’s plenty of waiting in life, isn’t there? We’ll have waiting of our own, to do… but we won’t do it alone.”

“No.” He breathed her in, feeling the ridges of old scars under his hands. “Thoughts on round two, sweetheart?”

“Hmm.” She sounded drowsy, and- when he thought about it- a nap might be a very good idea. “Well, if Rose agrees… perhaps we make Hux give her a tour. With Kiren at her back, of course.”

“I truly admire your mind.” Nuzzling her hairline, he settled further into the pillows and lifted his hands to pull out pin after pin. “Sleep a little. We’ll discuss conspiracy with Rose over a late breakfast.”

\- - - 

After seeing Rose (fresh from the hands of one of the stylists Rey had hired away from the Aphrasts, and carrying not one but two tasers) on her way with a heavily armed Kiren just behind, Rey watered her plants and considered her options.

“Ylse,” she said after long thought, “Dehl, I’d like you to accompany me on a visit.”

“How interesting of a visit?” Ylse asked dryly, though she put on her helm without any actual complaint. 

“I’d like to speak with Cass. Privately.” Cass, who had suggested Pasaana, and Cass, who had never attempted to speak with Rey outside of meetings, for all that she apparently had private chats with Ben on a semi-regular basis. “And this is my one free moment for awhile.”

Two different committees had asked to meet with her, after the midday meal- one dedicated to finding stormtroopers alternative employment, if they wished to leave the First Order altogether, and another considering how best to word the newest employment laws- and Rey suspected she would be lucky to escape in time for a late dinner with Ben. She very nearly pushed a mental message in his direction, but refrained lest the distraction caused him to falter while sparring with Solah. 

“I feel like I’m doomed to lose a hand, at some point, given family history,” he had told her once with grim humor, and she had no intention of making him lose an appendage on her account. 

“Are we warning her ahead of time?” Dehl asked, sounding as if he knew the answer. 

“Where would the fun in that be? She can talk diplomatic rings around me; I’ll take whatever advantage I can get.”

Ylse lowered her voice to a mutter once they were out in the corridor. “You’re going to make us wait outside the room, aren’t you?” 

“Private implies just me and Cass,” Rey muttered in return, and received a snort from both of her guards. 

“_You_ know us as living, breathing beings, Rey. Everyone else sees us as murderous automatons,” Ylse said plainly. “Having us in the room would count as private.”

“But a threatening kind of private. I want to see how she reacts to just me.” And while Rey hoped that surprise would give her an edge, allowing Cass to feel in control of the situation might prove enlightening. “You can hack your way inside if I start yelling.”

Displeased, both of them stationed themselves at the door of Cass’s office, displacing the stormtroopers on guard through sheer menacing aura. And Cass- upon Rey entering unannounced, bypassing the locks with the highest security clearance available- actually looked briefly startled. 

_Good,_ Rey thought, and dropped unceremoniously into the chair across from her. “I think we should talk about Pasaana,” she said bluntly before Cass could even offer a greeting. “I’m sure you understand why.”

“Ah.” Cass sat back, straightening her datapad and stylus with a kind of distracted efficiency. “Yes. I understand.” 

“If we could skip the part where you explain that the festival was chosen because it would make for easy PR, I would appreciate it.”

Cass gave her a long, fixed stare- and then she blinked, a hint of color rising in her cheeks. “What I’m about to say,” she said slowly, folding her hands together on her desk, “may mean nothing.” Pressing her lips into a straight line, she averted her gaze as if ashamed. “Before the Council meeting, I did ask PR to put together a list of possible events for you to attend, all in the same vein as the festival. I did not discuss that list with anyone, save for my fellow Council members- but.”

Her color heightened, though she did meet Rey’s eyes before continuing. “Enric- Allegiant General Pryde- and I are friends, of a kind.” She lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug, looking more wryly amused at her own expense than embarrassed. “We occasionally spend time together, when our schedules overlap. I saw him before the meeting, and he mentioned Pasaana in passing.”

“And what did he say?”

“Enric enjoys studying history, and whatever he was reading at the time included a story about a rather hapless Imperial officer who accidentally stranded himself on the planet with only a droid for company. It was an amusing tale, and I’m afraid I still had in it mind when I made my suggestion.” 

The explanation was far too neat and tidy for Rey’s taste, but she did her best to keep any doubt from her expression. “And why would Pryde want to hand me back to the Resistance?”

Cass tilted her head to the side, as if in thought. “He is not a man who believes that emotional entanglements are wise in those who lead,” she said after a moment. “Judging by a few off-hand comments he has made, I believe he is worried that you are a distraction. And more than that, he does not like leaving loose ends- and allowing remnants of the Resistance to remain would be akin to that, I think.”

“So,” Rey said dryly, “getting rid of me both spares Ben the inconvenience of a loving partner and directs his fury toward my abductors, leading to more war.”

“I believe Enric would see it as pest eradication, but yes.” Cass sighed quietly. “And it would have been easy enough for him to double-cross his conspirators. A rescue mission gone wrong, confusion over your actual location, a stray shot while attempting to take out your abductors… all very carefully orchestrated.”

_And he’s not here to say otherwise,_ Rey thought, struggling to maintain an emotionless mask as she rose. “If he contacts you, I want to know immediately.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Rey had learned many things, in the desert: when to run instead of fight, how to survive off little, how to wait, when intimidation was just as good a weapon as a knife or her staff. It was that last lesson that led her to plant both hands on Cass’s desk, giving in to the urge to show her teeth. “I need you to understand something.”

Cass lifted one brow, gaze cool. “Yes?”

It was the scavenger who spoke, not the Empress-to-be who had demanded Poe Dameron’s safety. “Harm my husband- _ever_\- and I will take you apart piece by piece.”

A silence fell, and it lasted until Rey herself broke it nearly a minute later. “Not that you would ever consider such a thing, of course.” 

“Of course.” 

“Still.” Rey straightened, allowing her fingers to brush over the casing of her lightsaber. “Pass that along, if you like.” 

Turning, she left without waiting for an answer. On exit she was treated to the sight of Rose sweeping past with Kiren and Hux in tow, the latter looking pained as she insisted on introducing herself to every janitor and mechanic who crossed their path. Smile strained, Rey left her to it.

\- - -

Rey loved him senseless, that night, holding him down and biting at his neck between ragged declarations that he was _good, so good, my sweet husband._

In return he gathered her in his arms the next morning, pressing his chest against her back and slipping one hand between her thighs. At her sleepy “Yes, please,” he eased into her from behind, keeping his movements to a gentle rock even as he lazily swirled his fingertips around her clit. She whimpered, his Rey, but didn’t try to take control; her thoughts were all pleasure at having him so close, at how safe she felt allowing herself to be soft for him. 

“Will you be thinking of this, sweetheart?” he asked in a murmur against her hair as she squirmed. “During your meetings?”

“Nerf herder,” she sighed without heat in reply, and gasped at one firm thrust. 

“A pity we can’t take that long honeymoon,” she said after, still nestled into the curve of his body and sounding as if she might drowse. “This is addicting.”

“One day.” He didn’t feel tired at all; morning sex with his wife was more invigorating than caf. “We-”

Their alarm went off, and with a grumble Rey pulled herself from his arms, slapping at the offending cube. “I’m going to make Hux dance attendance on us today,” she informed him, stretching with a grouchy expression beside the bed. “I want to see the look on his face when he’s forced to compliment us on our wedding holo.”

“Devious,” Ben told her with appreciation, and patted her ass as she preceded him into the fresher. 

She was in a better mood, after a shower and breakfast, and by the time they left their quarters- both in black, the fire gem necklace and emerald ring Rey’s only concession to color- she wore a small, satisfied smile. When he curved his left hand over hers, her smaller one resting against his arm, the sight of his wedding band made that smile bloom into a full-out grin. 

“Planning on threatening anyone today?” he asked quietly as they walked. She had told him bluntly of her meeting with Cass- and Cass, in more diplomatic terms, had related the incident to him via a carefully crafted message, making him wonder if she expected him to scold Rey like one might an impolite child. He didn’t particularly care for the implication that Cass still saw Rey as a step below him in power, and his response had ended with a curt _the Empress has a right to ask as many questions as she likes, and you have a duty to answer them._

He had omitted the fact that he also found her explanation of Pasaana lacking. Let her think they accepted her version of events; if she had spoken truly then she had made an understandable miscalculation, if she had lied they would find out soon enough. 

“No plans yet, but the day is still young.” There was a thread of amusement in Rey’s voice. “I’ll ask Solah for suggestions if I get bored between meetings.”

“I have a few candidates in mind,” he heard Solah mutter from behind them, and Rey snickered. 

The moment they entered (Min and her staff waiting with barely concealed excitement), Hux stepped up to them and without preamble said “I don’t believe my presence is necessary.”

Rey’s smile took on a hint of a snarl. “Don’t be ridiculous. We _must_ have your opinion.”

“I-”

“You have such excellent taste,” Ben interjected smoothly, sending Rey a wave of warmth through the bond. Min- who did not like Hux in the slightest, and had never cared to hide the fact- watched the exchange with a smirk. “We insist.”

And so Hux hovered behind them, a silent, seething accompaniment to Min’s admittedly charming work. “You look beautiful,” Ben murmured as Rey’s image carefully tucked a flower into his hair (her claiming of him had been definite and clear and their faces had been shown side by side, Rey’s expression determined and Ben’s so soft he hardly recognized himself), and one member of the PR department sighed wistfully. It ended with Rey grabbing him in an abrupt, giddy kiss, his mother beaming at them both from just a few feet away.

“Perhaps,” Min ventured in the ensuing silence, “we could arrange to interview her. About the wedding, I mean.” She cleared her throat. “We were also given another set of holovids. She documented most of the afternoon and evening before- making plans for the ceremony with the staff, your stylist, those that accompanied you. It would make for a very heartfelt documentary of sorts.”

Rey looked to him, her eyes wide. “Really?” she asked, and he felt from her that pulse of longing she often felt when thinking of family. “I didn’t know.”

“Neither did I.” And Ben thought on that- thought on his mother, the consummate politician, deciding to record every second of her preparations. For her own sake, for his, for Rey’s- one or all of the above, and he wasn’t sure which. “If she agrees,” he said slowly, holding Rey’s hand and smoothing his thumb over her ring, her own thoughts encouraging. “And only if she agrees.” 

He stared at the frozen final image of the holo, at the look on his mother’s face. “And if she says yes, take care of the arrangements yourself, Min. You would know best.”

Hux made a quiet, scoffing sound behind them, and Ben nearly leapt up to plant a fist in his face. He kept his seat, barely, and nodded at the woman whose hands rested above the controls. “I believe you mentioned a second version for our consideration?”

\- - -

Their dinner was late in arriving. Not concerning in itself (_much,_ Rey admitted to herself, her stomach beginning to grumble), but given the oddness of their circumstances any break from set routine felt like a warning sign- and Ute, in the limited time Rey had known her, had always been impressively punctual. When she set aside her datapad (halfway through reading a report on the stormtrooper nutrition program that was as dry as dust, but encouraging) Ben looked up from his own, stylus tapping rhythmically against the arm of the couch. 

“We have some food here,” he said when she began to pace, thin robe fluttering and her feet bare against the carpet and durasteel. “They’re just a little late; I won’t let you go hungry.” 

“I know.” Rey tilted her head to the side, feeling more and more as if _something_ were just out of her grasp. “Don’t you feel it, though?”

He paused, stylus slowing- and then he stiffened, and they were both making their way to the exit. An odd air of busy, concentrated confusion was growing just outside their door, and they burst out to find Ute arguing furiously with the stormtroopers on guard. 

“-but you must _notify_ them,” she was saying, lekku twitching and apron stained. “You-”

The expression on her face when she caught sight of them was of unmitigated relief, despite the fact that they both held unlit sabers. “You have to see,” she snapped, grabbing Rey’s wrist. “Now.”

The private kitchens lay on the same deck as their quarters, and Rey allowed Ute to tow her there without complaint, Ben nearly outstripping them with every stride. “I was preparing the main course,” she was saying in rapid, tumbling speech. “I found him in the freezer; told my assistants to guard the room while I fetched you personally.”

“Who?” Ben asked before Rey could utter a word, his face grave. 

“You tell me,” Ute replied shortly. “Identifying corpses isn’t my job. We’ll have to dispose of everything and disinfect the entirety of the kitchens; I refuse to prepare so much as caf before that is done.”

Suspicion growing, Rey quickened her steps, practically running down the corridors until they arrived at a bitterly cold room Rey would have at any other time regarded with wonder, given the treasures it held- but there was Enric Pryde, very dead and clearly surprised by that fact, directly beside a wealth of frozen meat.

And Rey, remembering Ute’s declaration, instinctively regarded everything around her with a mournful _what a waste._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [wedding bands](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451916316863/). 
> 
> Rey's ["let's threaten a Council member" outfit](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/273593746097725261/) (but with stompy boots instead of heels). 
> 
> Rey's ["let's investigate a crime scene" kaftan](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/656540451914934341/), because she is not one to be uncomfortable in her own quarters. 


	31. off-kilter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's me, walking in two months late with Starbucks.

Ben thought many things, on first seeing Pryde- but in a show of restraint, his first move was not to shout at the stormtroopers crowding the freezer’s entrance, nor interrogate the kitchen staff, but instead to turn to Ylse. “Would you,” he said quietly, free hand clenched at his side, “fetch Rey a pair of shoes and a warm cloak.”

Because his beloved wife was beside him, holding a hissed conversation with Ute as if her bare feet weren’t pressed against freezing durasteel. Their quarters were kept warm, for her sake- warm enough that her pretty robe was comfortably sufficient- but the flesh on her shoulders and upper arms was clearly prickling from cold. 

He had known Ylse long enough to know that she was deeply amused, behind her helm. “Of course.”

“-not before,” Ute was saying when he turned back to them, her head bent toward Rey’s. “It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes before I came back and found- found _that._ And no one could have brought him through the kitchens without being seen.”

“They didn’t have to.” Solah’s voice cut through the air. She gestured up toward the ceiling, where one panel looked a little askew. “Maintenance tunnel. They must have cut a hole in the deck and dropped him inside.”

Ben felt a flash of muddied annoyance from Rey; heard a muddled _like a kriffing labyrinth._ “I want to see. Show me.”

She was off before he could say anything, fabric fluttering around her as she moved in a quick, long-legged stride toward the exit. Catching up, he placed one hand on her lower back and said in a low murmur, “I sent Ylse for your shoes.”

For a moment she just blinked up at him in irritation, as if he were speaking nonsense- but then one corner of her mouth quirked up with self-deprecating warmth, and she stepped into an out of the way portion of the corridor. “Thank you.” 

“Dehl, take a squad and secure the tunnel. We’ll follow shortly.” Ben turned to Solah, who stood at attention at the door. “Oversee matters here; we’ll wait for Ylse before joining Dehl.”

She moved closer, and- in a rare move for a knight on duty- removed her helm. “I’d rather have two at your back,” Solah murmured, meeting first Rey’s eyes and then his own. “This was either a desperate move, or our adversary is playing an even more complex game than we thought. There are soldiers I trust, here, and I think we all suspect that the only clue to be found in the kitchens is the body itself.”

Ben agreed, and judging by Rey’s quick look she did, as well- and then she spoke, and confirmed just that. “If you trust them that much, give your orders.” Rey, mouth curling up slightly, poked Ben in the chest. “We’re waiting for shoes.”

Solah replaced her helm, Ben catching a flash of a small, small smile as she did so. “Perhaps you would prefer your husband carry you everywhere,” she said dryly, the words shifting from amused to filtered and impersonal midway between. “My lady.”

Rey snorted. “He’d like that too much.”

In a tone that was barely a protest (because he would, indeed, like that very much), Ben murmured “Rey.”

His wife smirked, and as earnest as that quirk of her mouth seemed he felt as if she were playing a part. “You sent for shoes, quietly. An improvement.”

“Stars,” Solah muttered in a hiss, stepping away from them both.

Ylse returned with boots and one of Ben’s sweaters. “It was lying on the bed,” she said with a shrug as Rey (a hint of a blush to her cheeks) pulled the sweater over her robe, the hem ending mid thigh. “The easiest choice.” 

Rey had been wearing the sweater and nothing else when he had made love to her that morning, and he could tell she was remembering just that. “Thank you,” she muttered, jamming her feet into the boots, and then a weak grin flickered over her face. “We’ll have to sedate poor Prehta if unauthorized holos of this outfit leak.”

“You might start a trend.” Ben rather liked the look of her, at that moment: swimming in his clothes, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the silky robe puffing out from under the hem, her feet covered in boots better suited to a battlefield. She strode off toward their destination after an impatient Solah, head held high and hair rippling around her shoulders, and when his admiration slipped from his mind to hers she cast him a ghost of a smile over her shoulder. 

Dehl met them at the entrance to the cramped maintenance tunnel, one hand tapping idly at his side in an uncharacteristic show of either distress or uncertainty. “He was killed on site,” he told them in a low voice once they were close enough to hear. “There’s a blaster burn above the cut deck, and evidence of a struggle.”

Rey’s mindset was all shadows and sharp edges. Head tilted slightly to the side, she asked, “When did he supposedly leave for his homeworld?”

“A few hours before we returned from Bespin,” Ylse replied. “With every necessary form filed and all needed signatures attached.”

Which meant, Ben thought grimly, that Pryde either had a bureaucratic conspirator, or had put on a convincing enough show that whoever he had dragged out of bed during the night cycle had been unwilling to question such a highly-placed member of the First Order. It was a mystery they should have investigated earlier. “Who?”

“Not the administrator over that department, but an assistant. The actual administrator is still in bed with a case of the Ilonian flu.” 

“Mild asthinium poisoning can look remarkably like the Ilonian flu,” Solah noted quietly. “And that can be found in the engineering storerooms.”

Ben exchanged a look with Rey, who had an odd half-smile on her face. “Thirty portions,” she murmured to herself, then addressed Solah directly. “Please take a squad of stormtroopers to detain the assistant for questioning, and have a doctor attend to the administrator.” The back of her fingers brushed against his. “Whose credentials were used to access the tunnel?”

“Ah.” Dehl held out a datapad, on which the name _Hux, Armitage_ and a series of numbers were listed after a time and date stamp. “Interesting, that.”

Feeling a tic in his jaw- even the sight of Hux’s name was enough to raise his ire- Ben said, “He wouldn’t be fool enough to use his own credentials.”

“Are you sure?” Ylse muttered.

“It gives us a solid reason to shut him away, at least for awhile.” Rey accepted the datapad with a frown, scrolling through a portion of the log. Over her shoulder Ben caught sight of previous names and ranks, all engineers, mechanics, or droids from those same classifications. “Please see to it, Dehl.”

It wasn’t until they reached the privacy of their quarters (her tense and still, him preparing a meal from their personal stores) that Rey said anything more of substance. “Whoever left his body there was cruel.” With her words came a flood of emotion previously tamped down, all bitter bruising and emotional bleeding, and he nearly nicked one of his fingertips with the knife he held. He had sensed the undercurrent, in the past hour, and here was the river to drown him whole. “Wasteful,” she continued, the word damning in a way only Rey could make it. 

Carefully setting aside the blade he stepped toward her, brushing crumbs from his hands. 

“They knew it would hurt me here.” She jabbed a finger at her own chest, shoulders hunched up. “Every scrap of food will have to be disposed of, when what was in that room could feed-”

She broke off, whirling away from him to pace, and Ben felt a rush of shame. For all his understanding of how important food was to her- how even with him she never took a meal for granted, never failed to glow when presented with something new and interesting- he had failed to take the setting into full consideration. Rey was not simply annoyed by the waste, or angry: she _mourned_ what would be thrown away, a mourning laced with the bone-deep fear of someone who had starved and seen others die from the same affliction. Intercepting her mid-room, he cupped her face gently. “I could eviscerate them for you, perhaps?” he offered in a low voice, bending toward her. Rey blinked, her hands wrapping around his wrists. “You’re right, sweetheart. That likely was a blow aimed at you and you alone.”

Intentional, or a lucky whim- either way, the murderer had made an impact. She did not look at all placated by his words, nor had he expected her to find much cheer in them. “All of Niima Outpost,” Rey said softly. “For a week, at least. Rationed and properly stored, one scavenger could live off that amount for much, much longer, even if they traded some for goods or protection or…” 

When she didn’t continue he pressed a kiss to her forehead and gathered her close. “It’s a small thing, but they can also be charged with waste of resources.”

“And that would add- what?” she retorted, words muffled against his chest. “A few more days of prison time?”

He huffed a humorless, soundless laugh. “Yes. Sit with me, wife,” he murmured into her hair before drawing her to the couch, determined to feed her before anything else. “We have a long night ahead, I’m afraid.”

She sat, and when he handed her a full plate she stared at the contents blankly before picking up a roll and making half disappear with a savage bite. “It’s evidence, isn’t it,” she said around the mouthful of bread, expression dark. “Not just… just me being… me.”

“Yes,” he agreed, settling beside her with his own meal. “Evidence, even if it appears he was killed elsewhere.”

“There aren’t many who understand on board, are there?”

Her question had been quiet, almost fragile, and with it came the abrupt, upsetting memory of a body not his own consuming some kind of stringy rodent and the sickness that had followed. The bread, the smoked meat, the preserved vegetables and fruit in front of him suddenly turned his stomach, sweat rising on his brow, but he knew that he had to eat for Rey’s sake. “I don’t know off-hand,” Ben said slowly, choosing the bread as the lesser of evils. “Ute and her staff might, but likely have a professional pride in serving the best. The stormtroopers and most of the higher ranked members of the military have been in a position to eat their fill for most of their lives, even if that fill was bland rations.”

Rey considered a piece of fruit, drops of juice trickling down over her wedding ring. “The janitors, mechanics…” 

And then she sighed, slumping back against the couch cushions. “But the optics of giving them that food would be terrible, even if it weren’t potential evidence, and any trust I’ve gained would disappear.”

“Who should we feed, then?” When she looked to him, a glimmer of fruit juice on her lower lip, he clarified. “With other supplies, not those.”

Rey methodically ate a hunk of meat and a piece of bread with her fingers, and he waited while she thought. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“This is only the beginning.”

She dipped her chin in a slight nod, her gaze somewhere in the distance. “Do the children in the creches get anything other than plain fare, beyond holidays?” Rey turned her head, a veil of hair concealing her expression from him. “I remember-”

She sounded a little hazy. “-the taste of sweetness, before Jakku. I don’t remember my parents, but I remember some small treat melting on my tongue.”

Ben set his plate aside, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You were very young, Rey.” 

“And I remember a candy and not my mother’s face.” She turned into him, resting her head against his shoulder, her half-finished meal at a precipitous angle on her lap. “But there was nothing sweet on Jakku- it was all… all harsh, and chemical.” There was a long pause, and then she whispered, “They should have something sweet. Something nice, more than once or twice a year.”

“Then we’ll send an inquiry; ask to see the menus.” He nuzzled her hair, missing the brief spate of uncomplicated time after their wedding. “If adjustments need to made, we’ll make them.”

“We-”

His comm signaled, interrupting Rey’s barely begun sentence and erasing her tentative smile. She sat up as he reached for the comm, setting aside her plate with enough force that it rattled on the low table in front of them. With a sick, off-kilter feeling Ben noted the identity of the caller: Min. 

“The rumors are no longer being whispered,” she said briskly after the bare minimum of civilities had been exchanged. “Your identity has been confirmed, my lord, and demands are being made from multiple allied planets for a full accounting of what happened at the academy.” There was a beat of silence, one Ben barely noticed as he absorbed the words as he might a blow. “The story currently told is not complimentary, and most of the planets in question are the former homeworlds of various students.”

Rey took the comm from his lax fingers before it could fall to the floor. “Min, _who_ made the confirmation?” she asked in a cold, brittle voice that caught even Ben’s attention, for all that he ached. With her back straight and her chin tilted at a stubborn angle, she looked every inch the Empress, even dressed as she was. 

“The confirmation is credited to someone by the name of Grimtaash.”

Rey’s hand curled hard around the comm, knuckles whitening under the pressure. Leveling a look on Ben so fiercely protective it made his breath catch, she raised one questioning brow. 

Thoughts spiraling at rapid pace, he acknowledged the inevitable. Wrapping his hand around Rey’s own, he drew the comm closer. “Min,” he said carefully, “contact my- my mother.” The betraying hitch in his voice made him wince, but Rey reached up with her free hand, smoothing her thumb over the indent between his brows. “It seems we need her to make a diplomatic visit to the _Steadfast_ after all.” 

Rey kissed him firmly after the call ended, fingers twining in his hair. “I’m going to change,” she told him, and nipped at his bottom lip in a way that dragged a surprised, rough laugh from his throat. “And you are going to decide which of our remaining knights will be guarding Leia during her stay, though that will leave them stretched thin.”

He grimaced, resisting the urge to grab the hem of her sweater as she stepped out of reach. “It will have to be Ylse.” He wanted, strongly, to crawl into bed and feel his wife latch possessively onto him from behind, and then stay there for a solid day. 

“Why Ylse?”

Ben toyed with his ring, unable to explain even to himself. “A hunch.”

\- - -

Rey rather wanted to kill someone. 

Wriggling into a sleek black tunic, she amended the mental statement. She _did_ want to kill someone, and she wanted to kill them for the haunted look in Ben’s eyes when the specter of the academy had risen again, and the quaver in his voice when giving the order to bring his mother into what by all rights should be his safe space, his territory. 

_He was right,_ she admitted glumly, tucking the fire gem under her bodice. _I’m a hypocrite._

Not the word Ben had used, but the teasing implication had been there. Rey had no intention of changing her ways, despite acknowledging the fault- she would not be swayed on her decision regarding Poe (and with a frown she made a mental note to up his security, lest Grimtaash use him again), and while the waste of so much food infuriated her she was begrudgingly willing to accept that the punishment there would legally be a pittance, compared to the greater punishments related to murder, kidnapping, and treason. Her protective instincts toward Ben, though, were certainly at odds with her determination to be a fair and merciful leader. 

_Yet another way we balance each other._

He was pacing the floor when she returned to the main room, expression so grim she very nearly brought her lightsaber to hand in defense against some invisible foe. “I should be used to being called a murderer,” he said before she could say anything, stopping abruptly at the furthest end of the room from her. “I’m responsible for my share of terrors, but not- not _that._” Ben had a way of looking very, very young at times despite his large frame, and was just so at that moment: shoulders hunched, chin tucked down, eyes bruised and averted. His mouth quivered, his hands clenched. “Except for…”

She would kill someone, Rey decided, or at the very least thrash this Grimtaash into bloody compliance. “That was self-defense.” 

“I know.” 

She moved in close, backing him against the wall, and he regarded her soberly through his lashes. “I see two options for us,” Rey said softly, wrapping her arms around him. “We catch a few hours of sleep, confident that our allies are gathering as much information as possible… or we question that assistant who may or may not have been caught up in a scheme beyond their understanding.”

“What about Hux?”

“It would do him good, I think, to spend a little time in quiet reflection.”

Ben made an odd sound that might have been a laugh, a hint of color appearing on his cheeks. “And Cass?”

Rey considered that for a long moment, leaning into him. “If she is Grimtaash-”

_Yes,_ something inside her murmured, and she seemed to hear an echo of the same from him. 

“-then she’ll have some kill-switch in place we aren’t aware of, won’t she?” What she could feel from Ben was sorrow tinted by shame, accompanied by vague memories of Cass. “She was cunning enough to gain your trust, to hide her tracks- if she is Grimtaash, she’ll be cunning enough to have something in play if she’s ever detained.” Rey met his gaze, lifting a hand to brush her fingertips under his chin. “She’ll have an ally other than Hux, assuming he is an ally.”

His eyes narrowed in thought even as his own arms came around her, one hand beginning a slow up and down stroke along her spine. “Perhaps we sleep.”

Rey took that in, a little surprised but not displeased. “Very well.”

“Or seem to.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, slipping away. “Call in Prehta. She’s going to carry a few messages for us.”

“Is she?”

“Prehta’s been with the First Order for years. She can ask questions we can’t, even with Olen looming over her shoulder.” 

He was right, and she tapped out a message to Prehta as he disappeared into the bedroom- and after, composed another. 

_Min- I intend to make a public statement in my husband’s defense. Arrange a time._

Rey made a mental resolution not to snarl directly at the cams, and even- horrors- to ask Prehta if dressing in white might tip the scales toward sympathy. 

It was a notion that made her uneasy, and a sacrifice that only Ben would truly understand.


	32. division

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am definitely behind on replies due to personal reasons, so if you have left a comment and I haven't responded please know that I appreciate you so much, and I thank you for your lovely words and your time.
> 
> TW for referenced suicide (not a major character).

Prehta received Rey’s quietly spoken question with a narrow-eyed, intensely thoughtful look- that, and a quick flick of her gaze toward the closed bedroom door. “Does he know?” she asked in an equally low voice, almost as if they were discussing treason rather than the color white. 

“Do you think he cares?” Rey replied lightly, only for Prehta to huff a scoffing laugh. 

“If you’ve made the matter clear to me I have no doubt you’ve made it clear to him.” Prehta’s tone was almost scolding. “If you show up suddenly in white I can only imagine his reaction would be… dramatic.” She bit her lower lip, briefly looking a little distant. “Though not _all_ white,” she murmured, more to herself than Rey. “Accents, perhaps… if that is what you really want.”

“It isn’t,” Rey stated plainly, “but I’ll wear it if I must.”

“I’ll consider the matter. Other colors, or the proper draping of fabrics...”

The words, to Rey’s ears, sounded rather like a lock clicking into place. Taking in a slow breath (_it’s such a small thing,_ she told herself. _Only this once, and only a little_), she purposefully searched for a new avenue of conversation and snagged on it quite quickly. “How is Mitaka?”

The bloom of color over Prehta’s cheeks was sudden, her expression turning from intense consideration of her datapad to something shy and happy. “I haven’t seen him much since…”

“The wedding?” Rey prompted when she trailed off, feeling a spark of mischief. “And the night of, perhaps.”

“We, uh, enjoyed each other’s company.” Prehta averted her gaze, smile shifting to a bit of a smirk. “And will again, when things are more peaceful.”

When she left- Olen at her back, and promising to search out information as delicately and cautiously as possible- Rey slipped into the bedroom where Ben waited on the bed, his gaze on the ceiling and one hand rubbing at the scar on his side. “I’m beginning to wish we had run, sweetheart,” he said before she could say anything, not even looking at her when she tugged the tunic off over her head and dropped onto the mattress beside him, bouncing a little. “Maybe you could have taken me to Ahch-To at long last. We might even now be eating fish and enduring interruptions from my uncle’s ghost.”

“Oh, they hate me there.” She lay down on her side, resting her head on his stomach and making any further messing with his scar (the skin reddened after so much fretful rubbing) impossible. “I destroyed a cart, and broke up a party, and shot a hole in one of the huts- though that was your fault, really.”

“Of course,” he agreed in distracted kind of way, running his fingertips along her hairline even as he kept watch on the ceiling. 

“You should sleep.”

“I know. I’m not sure I can.” He cupped her cheek, his ring cool against her skin. “Do you know what the last thing Luke said to me was?”

“What?” she asked softly. 

“‘See you around, kid.’” Ben shook his head a little, still looking anywhere but her. “I think… this… fulfills that promise nicely, don’t you?”

_I,_ Rey decided with a hot flash of protective rage (and Ben blinked, when he felt the echo, turning teary eyes to her), _should have done worse than left him with a bruised ass._ “If he does show up, I’m going to do my best to make a ghost feel pain.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up slightly. “I know… and if I weren’t so morose, I’d want to fuck you into the mattress just for the thought alone.”

“Truly, I share a bed with the sweetest man in the galaxy,” she teased, smacking a kiss to his belly and doing her best to hide that a bout of sweaty, hard sex actually sounded rather good to her in her irritated state. He needed sleep, and a soft hand rather than release. “I’ll take you up on that offer soon.”

Rey coaxed him out of the rest of his clothing and under the covers, wrapping herself around him from behind with a soothing “I set an alarm, no worries.” Even with her pressed up against his back he still lay with his knees curled defensively toward his chest, hands tucked up against his throat. As she waited for him to doze off- a shorter process than she had expected, but anxiety had sapped what energy he had left and he was soon breathing slow under her arm- she mulled over the problem of Hux. 

And- randomly, almost casually- an idea slipped fully formed into her mind. 

_Huh._

\- - -

“Pardon?”

It was the only thing Ben- half-awake, drinking caf in their rumpled bed- could manage after Rey’s startling statement. _She_ looked awake enough to take on an army single-handed, though there was an edge to her movements that suggested she had started drinking caf long before he had. 

“I’m going to apologize to Hux.” Naked, hair still damp from a shower, she disappeared into her closet. “What outfit screams ‘I’ve had a fight with my husband but I also think you’re an idiot’?”

He left the bed, caf still in hand, and padded barefoot after her. “Did we have a fight?”

“We’re going to let everyone think that.” She paused, head tilted as if she were considering the statement. “Not a bad fight, of course. And not the galaxy, if we can help it. We’ll just be a little… cold with each other, so that Cass or Hux or whoever thinks they’ve managed to drive a wedge between us.”

He gave her a long look, doing his best not to let his gaze drop to her ass, and then reached out for a soft wrap shirt and leggings, both in black and both more casual than she might normally wear outside their chambers or sparring. “You know you are denying me the pleasure of braiding your hair,” he muttered, and nearly dropped the mug he held when she threw her arms around him in a tight hug. 

“We will have decades of braids,” she said fiercely, though her eyes were soft as she looked up at him. “And until this is over you can braid my hair for bed, however you like.”

There were braids he had never attempted, though he had studied them- the braids saved for the privacy of the bedchamber, worn, depending on the era, by either new brides or courtesans. Rey smiled at the turn of his mood from grumpy to intrigued, and before he quite knew it she was on her knees in front of him, hands stroking his bare thighs. “I should have known there were sexual ones,” she said teasingly. “Is there a braid for this, Ben?”

He spilled what remained of his caf down the front of a dress when she took him into her mouth, her gaze mischievous and wanting, but that (as he would tell Prehta if he had any intention of explaining the how and why, though he most assuredly did _not_) was far, far better than letting it splash against his wife’s back. 

\- - -

Hux actually looked rumpled, when Rey strode into his cell- rumpled, and so sharp with self-important rage that she almost believed his cheekbones had grown more defined over the course of a mere handful of hours. 

“_You-_”

She cut him off before he could truly start the rant that had clearly been formulating ever since he had been escorted to the smooth-walled room, and did so by reaching out with the Force and undoing his restraints. They clattered to the floor, matte gray against gleaming durasteel. He nudged them with the toe of one polished boot, giving her a sneer that did not quite disguise his wary, askance gaze. “Dramatic,” he commented in a voice that held just a touch of uncertainty. 

“Efficient,” she replied dismissively, and dropped into the one chair in the room, propping her feet up on the table bolted to the floor. Her heels very nearly landed in the untouched plate of vegetables and congealed protein porridge, and in that moment- with the shiver of the plate, the rattle of the spoon, the scratch of her nails against a non-existent itch on her side- whatever fear he felt clearly slipped away, replaced by disgust. “You didn’t eat,” Rey noted with a frown. “I would have crawled for food that good, on Jakku.”

He flicked a look over her that implied he thought she would have done a great deal more than crawl. “I ate _before_ I was unceremoniously and unjustly arrested.”

“Lucky.” She allowed her irritation to slip through. “I suppose you want an apology.”

She had knocked him off his guard once again; his expression briefly went blank before a scrambled return to a half-hearted scowl that quickly ramped up to seething rage. “An _apology?_ I-”

“You were cuffed and marched to a cell by your own subordinates,” Rey interrupted curtly. “Your authority has been tarnished, I realize that, but given the evidence-”

She broke off with a frown, turning her wedding ring round and round her finger in an annoyed fashion and sensing more than seeing the moment when Hux managed to look past his own anger to pinpoint a seeming weakness. “I told my husband that we should leave you be,” she gritted out. “You’re hardly stupid enough to use your own credentials in the midst of a murder.” 

His shock was genuine enough, as was the way he jerked, slightly, unable to stay completely still in the face of that news. “Pryde is dead,” Rey informed him. “I suppose you’ll be taking his place,” she added in a begrudging, rather doubtful tone. “You would know the hierarchy better than me.” 

“I would be the best candidate,” he agreed crisply, hands clasped behind his back- and there was something to him, something cunning and crafty and _annoyed_ under what appeared to be sudden if reluctant deference for her position. He did not look like a man who had killed his rival for a promotion, but rather like one who was willing to take advantage of a pesky situation. Rey considered him levelly, still twisting her ring. 

“Of course, your whereabouts at the time of his death are unconfirmed.”

The same could not be said for Cass, who- due to attending a series of meetings on another ship within the fleet, and appearing on a security holocam mere minutes before the body had been discovered- had an alibi that constrained them from interrogating her without rousing suspicion. 

“I was off-duty and in my own quarters,” he snapped. “Just as I was scheduled to be, and as is my habit.”

“Pity you’re such a prig.” She swung her feet to the ground, standing with a grunt. “We might not be having this conversation if you ever played a few hands of sabacc with your fellow officers or shared a drink in a common room.”

Hux sniffed, clearly offended by even the idea of such behavior. 

“But your predictability is… commendable.” _Dangerous,_ Rey would have told someone she liked even a smidgen. Patterns could be observed. Patterns could be a weakness. “Perhaps you would accompany me in a stroll around the bridge.” 

His gaze flitted over her- over her trio of buns, her comfortable clothing, her seeming lack of jewelry save the wedding band- and she had the feeling that even with his uniform creased he considered himself as the more presentable of their pair. _Let him,_ she thought with sour amusement, intentionally worrying at a cuticle. _Vanity is a weakness, too._

They swept out of the cell side by side, and when they ‘happened’ to pass Ben and Solah in a corridor some minutes later Ben’s glower was a sight to behold. 

\- - -

“Will you be sleeping on the couch next night cycle?” 

Ben ignored Solah’s not-quite-murmured question, ignored his own desire to make a dramatic pivot and join the small clutch of people who surrounded his wife. Hux’s smug air- always an annoyance to behold- had him gritting his teeth at that particular moment. _I’m fine,_ had been Rey’s general mindset along the bond, for all that her gaze in his direction had been cold. She was playing her part in this unhappy plan to the hilt, wisps of hair in her eyes and her mouth set in a flat line. 

Once in a private room Solah pulled off her helm, an almost imperceptible smirk on her face. “Do you think I pitched that loudly enough?” 

“I think a number of stormtroopers will be gossiping about me being forced from my marital bed,” Ben replied, not bothering to hide how much that irritated him. 

“She’s better at subterfuge than I initially thought.” Solah pulled out her comm, a furrow forming on her brow. “She learned how to salvage more than broken hyperdrives on Jakku.”

Ben touched his ring lightly, thinking of Rey telling herself stories as she worked and starved and bled, scavenging hope with fierce tenacity. To those who would have stolen from her she had presented a front of _I will tear your throat out with my teeth,_ to the Resistance she had projected _I’m fine and I’m strong and I’m not breaking._ She was no stranger to the art of a social lie. “Any news?”

“The administrator did test positive for asthinium.” She met his gaze, any remnant of levity completely wiped away. “And the assistant is dead, by her own hand.” 

Even a year before he would have been tempted to score haphazard lines into the closest wall with his weapon at such a revelation, and as it was his hands instinctively curled into fists. Forcing his fingers to unclench, he accepted her comm to scroll through the message himself. Poison, again- a single dose of concentrated kouhun venom, swallowed mid-questioning. 

“Quick, but excruciating,” Solah said in a clipped tone. “A professional would choose something just as effective but painless.”

Ylse carried just such a pill, as did Dehl. “Some traps can’t be escaped from,” Ylse had told him once with a shrug that seemed to speak to a hard decision made over the course of long nights. “Sometimes a rescue simply can’t be launched.” She had tapped a seemingly innocuous spot on her collar. “If I can’t take them with me, I can at least cheat them of everything I know.”

Dehl had never offered an explanation, and Ben had never asked. 

“We don’t have Grimtaash in our morgue.” Solah reclaimed her comm, tucking it away. “But Grimtaash might have been holding something over her head.”

“And if there’s one, there will be others.” He took in a breath, considering their options. “My security credentials.”

She replaced her helm, turning toward the nearby entrance to a maintenance tunnel. “That department is just a ladder and a short walk away.” Her gloved fingertips skimmed over the weapon at her right hip. “I’ll take lead.”

\- - -

Rey kept her pace to a brisk walk, one just fast enough that Hux was forced to hurry his usual measured stride to something a little less decorous. It bothered him, to keep at her heels without ever overtaking her. She did her best not to smile, though she could almost hear him grinding his teeth.

“This _show_ may not work as well as you thought,” he muttered as they passed by several seated officers, all of whom kept their gazes on their respective workstations. “You still have no title, no power other than what Ren gives you.”

“So sorry to stick you with second best,” she replied coolly. “My meager influence is the best available, I’m afraid.” 

The almost soundless huff from Ylse could have been mistaken for derision, but Rey suspected it was carefully masked amusement. Around them stormtroopers, droids, officers busily attended to tasks, veering away from their small group as if repelled by some unknown force. She didn’t need more than her own senses to know that he had allies, in that crowd- sycophants, at the very least- just as there were those who had been very glad to see him marched away in restraints.

_The same applies to me,_ Rey thought wryly. _Happy thought indeed._

She stopped at the front of the bridge, staring out into the wide expanse of stars with her thumbs tucked into her belt. “What do you see?” she asked quietly in a moment of earnest curiosity, a small portion of the galaxy spread out before them in its breathtaking glory. 

“The Jostar sector,” Hux replied in a tone that implied she was trying his patience. “Useless. No valuable resources, no meaningful contributions to the First Order.”

What little Rey knew was focused on their self-sufficiency, their emerging largely unscathed from the war due to just that lack of shipyards and valuable minerals and lush playgrounds for the wealthy. One day she hoped to visit a planet or two and spend a few quiet days walking through their green woods. Even if she never had that chance, the sector would still receive the same protection and care as everything else she and Ben safeguarded. 

She allowed irritation to slip into her voice. “No planet is useless.” 

“Battle fodder does not count.” 

Rey rounded on him, starlight at her back and a snarl in her throat. He already thought her feral; temper wouldn’t surprise him. “We’re not at war.”

Hands behind his back, he stared down his nose at her. “I never said anything about war.” He was all cold calculation, all merciless consideration, and in a way that reminded Rey of Plutt at his worst. “I speak only of keeping the peace.”

Tamping down one rebellion after another, sacrificing the nameless along the way. Even if Hux proved to be innocent in the current plot against them he couldn’t be allowed to keep his post for long. 

_A promotion,_ she decided, her thoughts in such a grim cast that she felt a wash of worried warmth from her husband. _Somewhere cold, obscure, and easy to monitor._

The lights above and around them flickered, then went out entirely.


End file.
